


To Walk Together

by ShootingStarSojourner



Series: To Come Together [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Artist Steve Rogers, Captain America: Man Out of Time, Crying, Emotions, Explicit Language, F/M, First Dates, Fluff and Smut, Freeform, Friendship, Healing, Heartache, Longing, Loss of Virginity, Monsters, New York City, Not Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Compliant, Oral Sex, POV Second Person, PTSD, Past Lovers, Pre-Avengers (Marvel), Pre-Battle of New York (Marvel), Protective Steve Rogers, Reader - Insert, Reader Has Powers, Reader has a crush, Reader has insomnia, Reader is a healer, Reader is emotional, Reader is lonely, Reader-Insert, Rough Introductions, S.H.I.E.L.D., Shooting Stars, Shower Sex, Sleep Deprivation, Smut, Sojourner, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Has PTSD, Steve Rogers Is Lonely, Steve Rogers Needs Someone To Protect, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, Steve Rogers' Firsts, Strangers to Lovers, Swing Dancing, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, World Travel, crushing hard, falling, light and dark, powers, relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2018-10-26 23:39:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 26
Words: 94,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10797177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShootingStarSojourner/pseuds/ShootingStarSojourner
Summary: Smut: Ch. 12, 14, & 21.You are a sojourner of the stars. You go from galaxy to galaxy, realm to realm, discovering the wonders of worlds everywhere.In a call of need, you find yourself in Asgard where your best friend has come to reside. You’ve been running away from your feelings of hurt and loss after your recent relationship breakup, so you welcome the distraction.But turmoil comes to the beautiful realm, and suddenly you find yourself falling into the messier realm known as Midgard – Earth, where a certain, lonely captain from Brooklyn finds you and gives you refuge in New York.Steve Rogers is a man out of place and time and has been dealing with post-traumatic stress in his new modern-day setting. No friends, no motive, he’s just trying to get through the days. But now that you've fallen into his lap.Neither of you expect the blossoming bonds stemming from meeting one another. Are you willing to walk together to mend from the wounds of loss and the past, or will you runaway again?Tumblr blog for TWThere





	1. A New World - A Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WanderingWorldWarrior](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WanderingWorldWarrior/gifts).



> Hello, everyone!
> 
> First time posting, first time writing a fanfic! So I'm super excited to see how this goes! This came out of reading [Power and Magic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6595252/chapters/15087760) by Sidrisa and discovering the whole writing style of using second person. So, this became an experiment to see what would happen.
> 
> This story begins on the tail end of "Of Softer Emotions" by [WanderingWorldWarrior](http://archiveofourown.org/users/WanderingWorldWarrior/pseuds/WanderingWorldWarrior) in her series [Of Different Emotions](http://archiveofourown.org/series/694926) so be sure to check that out! You might discover some intriguing connections and characters there. ;)
> 
> Fic set in Pre-Avengers (Marvel) timeline.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just remember that you can travel worlds. You've been on the move. You haven't seen your friend in years. And now she's calling.
> 
> Shall we see what happens? ^_^

You suck in a sharp breath, stumbling. A burst like no other overwhelms your body. Pain, _excruciating_ pain and panic flood your senses. Desperation wakes in your heart. And suddenly you feel her again.

 

_Thomasin!_

 

The link that has gone untouched for so long now screams with life. And it shrieks with a fear like no other you’ve experienced before from her. You don’t hear Tom but you feel her inside again.

 

She calls for you, screeches for you. She _needs_ you!

 

 _Tom! Friend!_ Worry for your friend seizes your heart. You grab your pack and with flimsy fingers strap it on.

 

Suddenly you remember your current company. You honestly hate to leave them so randomly and so suddenly, but you must. You leave them a message and pray they understand your urgency.

 

Your body quakes with the energy pulsing through your veins, ruling your senses. You must jump. It’s the only way to reach her.

 

 _Well, I’ve done this before. Hopefully I’ll be able to do this again_.

 

You secure the link to map your way to her across the galaxies. You send a frantic prayer up as the wave of light pours from your feet and begins to wrap you up.

 

_Please, grant me passage, I need to find her!_

 

And with that, you shoot for the stars.

 

~*~

 

The landing is never something you can control, not the place, not the time, and definitely not the situation. Your feet find hard ground and, as the cascade of light around you vanish, you begin to notice things again. Your vision blurs as the adjustments in your body take place. You shake the dizziness away and gaze around. Surrounding you with wide eyes is an army that has just seen battle, as apparent from their exposed weapons and bloodied appearances.

 

Wariness starts to creep into their gazes.

 

“Um. Where’s Tom?” you try, for lack of a better plan.

 

A warrior near you exclaims, “Inside!” He points to the building everyone stands outside of.

 

You look towards the entrance, blink, and search the essences. You swim your way through the phantom effect the dead have left. You search the rooms. Finally, you see her dark flames, currently defined by her anguish and fear. You blink again.

 

“Right.” You bolt. You vaguely sense that you’re being followed but there is nothing stopping you from getting to your friend. You trace the direct line to her and find yourself inside a large chamber.

 

The massacre inside makes the place reek of blood.

 

At the far end, there is a cluster of people huddled over your friend. She’s on the ground.

 

“Thomasin!” you call. For the first time, you fully register the possibility of her being hurt. You hope you’re not too late.

 

Her head snaps up. She sees you. And even from where you stand you see the sharp glint of her eyes. She screams your name, desperation filling every letter.

 

You run to her, her desperation pulling you forth. The crowd parts and lets you in. It’s only now that you can see the fallen man, the one who everyone is truly gathered around. You take him in as you come closer.

 

He’s tall like most of the people surrounding you with a pale face and strikingly sharp cheekbones. He has black hair and wears green-decorated armor that’s now black and red with blood. His emerald essence is slipping but it fights death’s pull. Something is trying to suffocate it, though.

 

Tom places frantic pressure on his chest where the wound is. She looks up at you, her eyes red and puffy, and calls you again. “ _Please_ ,” she pleads as a sob escapes her. “Is he dead? Or is there a chance?”

 

 _Ah, so this is your Bastard Prince_. You don’t answer because you’re already at work. You step up to the man and kneel beside him. Light pools into your hands and you place them on his chest.

 

Tom removes her hand from the wound but takes hold of your shoulder. The moment she does you feel the emotional connection she told you about. It’s strong, and it wants to be. But you have to push it out in order to concentrate. Plus, at the moment there is little to connect to and your friend does not need to feel that as fully as she could.

 

The open gash is red and angry, weeping blood along with some of the Ordinat poison you soon realize he’s been hit with.

 

 _You took quite the attack, Daring Prince. I take it you saved her life_.

 

You seep your light in and let it be your eyes inside of him. You find the poison that’s encircling his heart, attempting to infect the bloodstream. It’s already gnawing at his magic. Much like a sponge you let your light absorb the poison, away from the heart. Sadly, it must pool around the chest since extraction would cause mortal damage to the open wound and a pain like no other. But for now, your light can fend off the poison’s attack. He’ll just have to bear the weight of it on his chest until it comes out completely.

 

 _Come now, Sorcerer Prince, you can’t leave yet_.

 

Your light focuses on the wound next. It beckons the muscles, tendons, nerves back together. It sews him up, revitalizing the cells, letting them reproduce and grow. It’s quick work thankfully.

 

 _She didn’t call me for no reason, Loner Prince, time to return to the world of the living_.

 

The wound closes but the skin pulls tightly together.

 

_Now, Dark Prince…_

 

You lay a hand flat on his chest and press down firmly, filling his lungs with your light.

 

 _Breathe_.

 

He jumps and sucks in a ghastly breath. His essence regains its beautiful green color, true to his eyes that now search the faces all around him. He does his best to drink in the air. Then his head rolls back and out he goes.

 

 _Rest well, Emerald Prince, for you have a lot of work to do_.

 

You stop your light’s flow and put a hand over your friend’s giving it a squeeze in comfort. You smile to her, assuring her of his lifeline.

 

Tears roll down her cheeks in utter relief.

 

You catch her head against yours. “He’s going to be alright.”

 

~*~

 

As you expected, you wake with the morning sun. And what a glorious sunrise it is. You lay quietly in your window seat and watch the sun cast its rays upon Asgard down below.

 

It’s truly a beautiful place. You’ve seen many things, many places, few rival this beauty, though.

 

You’re thankful for the rest you got. By the time everyone made it back to the infirmary, you are feeling the weight of your jump and use of healing energy.

 

Your friend’s Emerald Prince, who you finally learn is named Loki, is immediately stripped of his armor and put in a sickbed.

 

The queen, his beautiful mother dressed in silver, soon joins the crowd and begins to personally see to his healing process with her magic.

 

Tom clings to her wounded prince.

 

His brother, the Ruby Prince you’ve dubbed him, Prince Thor, and the Lady Sif, Thor’s companion, hang about as well. To keep himself distracted from the worry gnawing at his mind, Thor begins to start telling you stories about prior battles they’ve fought.

 

You listen, fascinated, while you take the time to heal up your friend. You know her wounds better than most and can see to them much faster than the others. But so as to not add more trouble to the frantic nurses, you decide to heal Thor and Sif as well.

 

Thor takes a small detour in his stories to marvel at how your light works within him, at its warmth and how it spreads. His mother watches you, relief filling her eyes knowing that at least both of her sons don’t need the same medical attention.

 

And all in the meantime the gold-armored king, Odin, eyes you warily with his one eye.

 

Ever since you arrived, you have a feeling this man doesn’t like you, or at the very least doesn’t trust you. You don’t necessarily blame him.

 

To conserve as much peace as possible to be had after a battle, you stick to the outskirts of the room. You quickly find the cushioned window seat and take up residence there. You watch as the king sees that everything is handled before taking his leave.

 

It’s as things settle that you finally grow at ease. You settle into the cushions and let the Ruby Prince continue to speak to you and tell you stories. It’s late into the night now. You watch your friend in her chair next to Loki’s bed and smile. Much to your surprise, you fell into a very deep sleep rather quickly.

 

~*~

 

So now here you are, awake at high morning with only two sets of sleepy breathings to listen to. You rise from the cushions and stretch. You slept in your clothes and now they’re not only travelworn, covered in blood, but crumpled as well, an unfortunate look to behold in such a grand a place. You should change.

 

Unexpectedly, the door opens and a female nurse enters quietly. She approaches you with a tray of food. She bows to you, and you curtsy in return. Her eyes grow in shock, yet she says nothing to you.

 

“Umm, do you have a bathroom I could change in?” you ask her quietly.

 

“Oh,” she starts, “right through that door.” She nods to the side of the room.

 

You take the tray from her hands and bow your head in gratitude. “Thank you.”

 

She quickly leaves but as she does she keeps looking over her shoulder at you. She exits the room.

 

You set the tray down and enter the bathroom to change. You clean up and find some clothes that you hope won’t be of insult to the palace decorum, though most are foreign and worn also. When you head back into the room, you take notice of Tom lying in bed with Loki.

 

She just fell asleep on top of the covers next to him. His face is scrunched as though he feels pain even in his sleep.

 

Silently you go over to them, keeping your presence close. You place a hand over the prince’s chest. Carefully, you seep your light into him and pull the poison back again. The wound is healing properly.

 

You move to your friend after him and check on her wounds again. The little healing you add doesn’t take long or much effort, her body has already been at work.

 

When you finish, you notice a book in Tom’s chair. You pick it up and take it back with you to the window. You grab some food along the way and settle back down. You eat and read the morning away, the sun growing warm as its rays begin to reach through the glass.

 

~*~

 

Movement catches the corner of your eye so you pull your attention from the book and look up.

 

A pair of emerald eyes watch you curiously.

 

Outside of looking a bit pale from the healing process, the prince doesn’t really look surprised to be awake so late in the day.

 

You humorously wonder to yourself if he shares your friend’s love and ability to sleep deep into the day. If so, how jealous you are of them.

 

“Hello,” you finally greet aloud. You glance over at Tom to see if you wake her but she doesn’t stir. You meet the emerald eyes again. “You must be this prince I’ve been hearing about,” you say with light humor in your voice.

 

His lips spread into a sly grin at the news.

 

You keep from raising an eyebrow. _Dude, I don’t think you know **exactly** what she’s told me of you_ , you think to yourself, amused.

 

“And you must be the best friend, then.” He states your name. His voice is smooth yet it comes from his throat.

 

“I am.”

 

“Well, I suppose I ought to thank you. It appears you saved my life.”

 

Before you can say anything, Tom moans into her pillow. She shuffles before sitting up in bed and looking about, confused. She yawns widely. “Morning, friend,” she greets you.

 

“Morning? Try afternoon,” you tease.

 

Tom notices Loki watching her. “Oh. Best friend, Prince Asshat. Asshat, best friend,” your friend introduces, pointing at each of you respectably. She hops onto the floor.

 

The prince gives her a scowl.

 

You give a chuckle. “Pleasure,” you reply. “Although we’ve already done our own introductions.”

 

Then to your utter horror Loki swings his legs off the edge of the bed.

 

You find yourself standing quickly to catch him but stop when you see that he has to make himself sit on the bed when his legs don’t hold him up. You let out a breath of relief.

 

“Oh, this is going to be absolutely miserable, isn’t it?” Loki laments.

 

“You being stuck in the infirmary?” Thomasin asks. “Oh, yeah, it’ll be absolutely miserable.” A familiar grin of wicked happiness crawls onto her face.

 

You can’t help but laugh. _Well, what do ya know? The bastard really did it_.

 

The Emerald Prince turns his eyes to you. “Am I to expect equal disrespect from you as well, Healer?” Loki asks.

 

You set the book down and walk up to him, smiling sweetly. “Me?” you ask coyly. “Why I would _never_ disrespect royalty, now would I, Tom?” You gaze upon her innocently.

 

The wicked grin just grows. “Never,” she responds.

 

Loki rolls his eyes to the ceiling. “May the stars spare me the ploys of these two heathen women in confidences of one another.”

 

You and your friend laugh together. “Now stop moving,” you tell the prince. You spread light into his legs to give them some basic strength. “Or your sea legs will betray you.”

 

~*~

 

Darkness pulls at the air behind you. Before you can turn, you feel your friend step out of her portal. “Found you,” she announces. “How’d you even get out here?” She takes a seat next to you.

 

You smile at your friend and shrug. You discovered the rainbow bridge one morning when gazing out the window. You sit with your feet dangling over the edge above the glistening waters at the end of the realm.

 

“It was getting too loud and crowded in there, I needed to breathe. I mean I know I’m the fun new toy everyone wants to get a look at, but they’re all really overwhelming. How have you survived with all those people?” you ask, chuckling.

 

“Well, I usually stick to my room or the training grounds,” she answers. “I’ve done the feast thing a few times, but not a lot.”

 

“Ah, that makes sense.”

 

You both look out over the crystalline waters, the sun slowly setting gloriously.

 

Then your friend asks the question you’ve most been dreading to hear. “How’s your beloved Layne?”

 

Your eyes and shoulders droop. You’ve done your best to not bring him up. “Well... he’s definitely well,” you assure her as you stare at your feet. “I made sure of that.”

 

Tom gives you look of surprise. “Did something happen?” she inquires.

 

You nod slowly. “He and I are... no more,” you say softly. The wound resurfaces, ache and all. “The relationship is over.”

 

Your friend just takes that in. Never would she have guessed such a thing to be. “What happened?” she asks, shock evident in her voice.

 

Your heart tightens with renewed pain, yet you take a deep breath. “I spent too much time away, and I didn’t even know it. He was forced to marry with no way out. The council trapped him in the decision.” Your eyes roam over the water, his pale face in mind. You take a moment before continuing. “By the time, I actually made it back... his wife was pregnant.” You swallow hard to keep the emotion rising to your throat down.

 

The weight of the statement sits on Tom’s face. 

 

“It’s okay,” you quickly add. “I met with him, and we talked things over. We mutually decided it would be best to move on. He said our journals will still work, since they are gifts. You know how their people are with gifts.” You say it lightly but the ache in your core is growing.

 

“Damn,” Tom says softly. “I’m so sorry, friend.”

 

You nod. Emotion runs tumultuous laps in your stomach.

 

“Did you let yourself grieve?”

 

You suck in a breath, hold it, and then finally release it slowly. “I suppose so. The Ordinat have been an outlet, albeit not a good one, but still. I’ve done my best with it. I’m alright.” It’s not an outright lie. You _have_ been okay, right now it’s just a fresh sting.

 

“But if the Asgardians don’t mind extending some hospitality to me, and let me hang around, I’d appreciate it,” you tell her. “If not, then I’ll bounce over to Earth. There’s always something going on there.”

 

The red sun gleams over the city.

 

Thomasin follows your gaze out over the waters. “You know you can be sad if you want. It’s okay.”

 

You bite your lip as it trembles and look away. You shut your eyes tightly but the tears escape. She opens the door, and you fall through, so you cry. You rest against your friend’s shoulder.

 

Tom quietly sits at your side and lets you grieve. She hurts for you.

 

Finally, you dry your eyes and take some deep breaths.

 

Your friend gives you a side hug. “Ready to head back?” she asks.

 

“Yes,” you say, smiling a bit. “Yes, I am.”

 

Thomasin stands and pulls you up. Together you begin your way back towards the palace. The colorful bridge stretches out before you, shining and humming.

 

You loop your arm with hers, a very old gesture. “It’s good seeing you, my friend,” you tell her. “I was beginning to doubt I ever would again.”

 

She grows quiet and stares at the colors below our feet.

 

You give her arm a squeeze. “You never said it but I knew what you were planning. I’ve been considering jumping for a long time in hopes of stopping you. I’m glad it didn’t pan out, but I understand why you wanted to leave.”

 

There are still no words for her to give.

 

“Your notes shifted unexpectedly when you got here and met the prince.”

 

Tom’s cheeks grow pink.

 

“Through your words, I saw you come back, like you hadn’t before. And I was grateful. Still am,” you say. “And I know… that some part of you still yearns to move on…. But I’d really like you to stay a little longer.” It’s hard for you to ask this of her, but it’s worth a try.

 

Thomasin meets your eyes.

 

“Please don’t leave me yet,” you say softly. “I don’t think my heart or sanity could take it.”

 

You watch it all unfold in her steely eyes. The battles, the death, the loss, the destruction, it’s all there. But there’s also the sweetness of life, the adventure, the freedom there.

 

Tom stops you both and gives you a hug.

 

You hug and hold her in return. You share in your friendship, and all it’s endured. You replenish one another. And you shall bear arms together as you always have.

 

Tom pulls back, and you meet her sharp gaze. “I’m not going anywhere,” she declares.

 

You smile, your whole being rejoicing. “Thank you.”

 

Together you make your way back to the palace, under the starry eyes of the skies above.

 

~*~

 

You step inside the great throne room and are filled with awe once more. Such grandeur like no other place you’ve seen before. It almost hurts the eye. It definitely makes you feel all the smaller and out of place than you usually are. You make the long walk up to the throne where the Gold King sits, eyeing you closely.

 

You give a low curtsy, bowing your head. “Your Majesty,” you say and rise. You clasp your hands behind your back.

 

The Allfather is taken aback by your proper address. He did not have such fortune with your friend. And this makes the king sigh.

 

These foreigners are tiring him, with their intrusions and lack of propriety. He knows you will not bow to him, yet wonders what would happen with _you_ if he forced your body to comply. He decides to simply seek out your response. “It is customary to bow before the king,” Odin explains.

 

You acknowledge him with a nod. “My lord, I am not your subject, your servant, nor your slave. I will not lower myself as if I were. Please know that I mean no disrespect,” you reply cordially. Your stomach is tight but don’t let it show.

 

The Allfather watches you, taking in your slight form. You should be quivering before him. You should fear looking upon his face. Yet here you stand, much like your companion did before, proud and unfazed.

 

Defiance is not found in your features yet there is no denying that you will not be persuaded simply by his status and power. This knowledge unnerves the king of Asgard. Never has he had to deal with such obstinacy. It would be one thing if you and your friend were simply stubborn foreigners, but you’re not. You both hold such power, abilities that he cannot measure nor predict and reign. And this is what made him summon you forth.

 

“I’ve not had the time to personally extend my gratitude to you for saving my son’s life,” Odin states. “Thank you.”

 

You feel your face grow warm. _What am I supposed to say to that?_ You did what was needed.

 

Healing and saving lives are a normal part of your travels. It comes with your skill set. You don’t like that people keep holding this act over you as though you expect them to owe you or give you something in return. You’re not even used to this much attention over something you tend to do away from so many eyes. You didn’t mean to put yourself on display, you just did what you were called to do.

 

Finally, you speak up. “There’s no need to thank me, my lord. I just wanted to help,” you tell him. Your hands fiddle behind your back.

 

“Tell me, child, why did you help? You didn’t know the man.”

 

“Well, no, but Thomasin did. She called for me. She needed me. So, I came.”

 

“Do you always answer to such calls?”

 

“Yes, sir. My friend does not call needlessly.”

 

“To how many others do you respond to in this way?” Odin asks.

 

You hesitate before answering. “The number has dropped significantly in recent years,” you admit.

 

“Could you not save them?” He is testing you, seeing how much you’ll take, watching your reactions.

 

You press together your lips for a moment. “Not all circumstances allowed for my interference, my lord.”

 

 **Because you were too busy doing something else**.

 

You shove the thought away. “Your Majesty, why have I been summoned?” you dare ask.

 

“Swear loyalty to Asgard, Healer, and aid our realm. Be someone we can call on. Stand alongside the Warrior.”

 

Thomasin pledged herself to the kingdom, and you know why and wouldn’t have kept her from that decision.

 

You on the other hand do not want this. You feel your chest tighten. You were afraid of this. You work to keep your breathing steady. But you know your answer. You just have to say it.

 

The Allfather watches you painfully closely.

 

“I can’t,” you finally say.

 

Odin’s one eye narrows. “ _What_ can you _not_ do?”

 

The gruff question scares you. You’re prepared to take any protective measures to keep yourself from getting blasted out of the throne room. “I cannot pledge my allegiance to the realm.” Your voice trembles. For the first time, you truly are afraid of the man before you.

 

Odin allows himself to grow angry. He’s had enough to deal with already. He doesn’t need this foreigner causing him more trouble than you’re worth.

 

But an idea pops into your mind, and your mouth opens before you think to stop it. “But!”

 

The Allfather’s eye searches you. He holds his tongue and waits for you to continue.

 

You keep yourself from shaking. “ _But_ … allow me to be your ally,” you quickly say.

 

“Why would I-”

 

“Because I saved your son, the prince. Allow this to be my request of repayment for what I did out of my service.”

 

The Gold King glowers down at you.

 

 _Am I insane? Did I really just ask the king for **payment** for what I did? He’s going to fucking throw me out now just because of my damn independence!_ Your thoughts run haywire in your mind as you wait for the king to deliberate.

 

He’s actually mulling it over in his mind.

 

“A life for a life,” you add. “Your son has his life back, allow me to keep mine. I will answer your calls, aid the realm, but let me do it in my own way. I’ll be happy to work side by side with your people. I can be someone they can trust, that you can depend on, but, _please_ , let me keep my freedom.”

 

You find yourself inclining your upper body to him. Not quite bowing, but you are showing him your plea in a submissive way. You don’t want him to see you as a threat. Because you really aren’t.

 

The Allfather makes his decision. “Very well. Let it be so. A life for a life.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a way to start, huh?
> 
> If you made it this far, yay! ^_^
> 
> Hope you stay along to see the rest of the adventure unfold. I promise that Cap will show up in a few chapters!
> 
> Read [Of Softer Emotions](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10507563/chapters/23185797) if you want the full story of your best friend Thomasin and the adventure in Asgard that led her here! =D


	2. Storms Brewing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, again!
> 
> Ready to get to know yourself better in this world of tall Asgardians? =D
> 
> Also, if you're following the timeline, this begins at WanderingWorldWarrior's second part of her "Of Different Emotions" series, so check out [Of Darker Emotions](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10659711/chapters/23590935) and get the full world of Asgard from our wonderful Warrior friend! ^_^
> 
> Onward with our Starling!

You lay back on the rainbow bridge, legs dangling over the edge. Heavy raindrops fall upon your body. You’re already soaked from the torrent that just passed through. Now you’re enjoying the slow end to the incredible storm.

 

It’s cold out as the stars shine down over the Asgardian realm.

 

You’ve been here six months now and still can’t get over how awesome the place is. You have to hand it to the Asgardians, they know how to do splendor. You’ve seen palaces, countries, even whole different planets but this one take the bill for grandeur and beauty. It’s overwhelming. And there are times when it leaves you craving for your former home, your little abode hidden within a little forest glade.

 

You frown. The familiar ache of loneliness bites harder than the night chill. You sit up and take in the view of the palace, waters below, and the city reflect the glittering skies above. _Beautiful, truly_. You pull your feet up and rise. A small glow radiates from your feet where they touch the rainbow bridge. You summon your staff as you begin to make your way to the end of the bridge where the Bifrost resides.

 

Colors swirl across the bridge as you draw designs on it with the butt of your golden staff. Most call it a staff, honestly it looks like glorified walking stick. It’s only a few inches taller than you and the right width to fit within in your hands just right. You created it out of your light, so it looks like it's made out of golden topaz or crystallized gold, and can summon it at will. Right now, you use it to create ripples of light and color on the bridge. You entertain yourself this way the long walk to the Bifrost.

 

Upon entering the Bifrost, you call off your staff and wring out your hair.

 

The Watcher turns his golden eyes upon you. “Greetings, Star Healer,” he greets in his deep voice.

 

_Star Healer_. The title makes you smile.

 

Soon after arriving in Asgard, you learn that the people like to reward everyone with special titles and names befitting their skills, description, or current feat. After your sudden fall from the skies to save your friend’s beloved prince, you were dubbed the Star Healer. Your friend is the Bloody Warrior, also according to her own entrance. The irony of having such opposite names is not lost on you, for you and Thomasin are very truly opposites.

 

You bow your head to the tall man. “Good night, Watcher,” you reply.

 

He exudes power. His all-seeing eyes swirl with gold and stardust. He _is_ living power. His golden presence is soft yet ever aware. “What brings you to my dwelling so deep into the night?” he asks you.

 

You take in the gold casing of the observatory that holds the mysterious Bifrost. “Curiosity,” you answer. The outer shell swirls around the inner one, allowing for glimpses into the galaxies.

 

“Is that all?”

 

You meet his gaze and come to realize that he knows of your nightly excursions. You shrug. “I suppose not.”

 

“For one so connected to Light I find you wandering in the shadows often,” he comments.

 

“Are stars not light in the night?” you quip.

 

“Is not the sun a star as well?”

 

You laugh. “Observant, All-Seer.” You stare out into the swirls of space. “With every rise of the sun there is a new day, a new beginning.” _Layne shared many sunrises with me…_. You shake your head and turn back to the Watcher and his soft gaze. “Sometimes it’s the night that’s hardest to get through.” You sigh. “I don’t sleep well, so I wander.”

 

“Has it always been this way?”

 

You shake your head. “I wouldn’t have this much trouble if…” You come up short, your cheeks warming.

 

“If?”

 

The corner of your mouth pulls down. “If I have someone with me. I sleep better when there’s someone else in the room. The extra presence is a comfort.”

 

Heimdall watches you curiously. “Do you not call upon the Warrior?” he asks.

 

“No. She’s already lost enough sleep over the years. I won’t add to that toll. She’s at her best right now, like she hasn’t been in far too long.”

 

He nods his understanding as he listens to you sigh.

 

You both stand in the quiet for several moments. You’re staring out again. “Heimdall?” you start.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Can you see my home planet?”

 

“I have.”

 

You hesitate. You want to ask something of him you know you shouldn’t. For your heart aches to know. But it’s wrong to... so you don’t. Instead you ask, “Does it concern you?”

 

“I have no reason to fear your home.”

 

You nod. “I’m glad.” You yawn and rub your eyes. Your adventure to escape your dark dream-filled sleep has now caught up with you.

 

“Best be off now, Healer,” the Watcher suggests kindly.

 

“I a-” You stop when you feel Heimdall tense.

 

His golden eyes search the lands, something has caught his attention.

 

“What is it?” you ask, suddenly on alert, sleep forgotten.

 

“Forces are gathering, coming our way,” he informs you.

 

“Who? Where?”

 

“From the western lands. They look to attack Asgard. I must alert-”

 

“I’ll do it,” you assure him.

 

“Thank you for your service, Healer.”

 

You nod and head out of the Bifrost. You pull your power, jump, and leap high into the air. You cross the whole bridge in just the one jump. The next gets you to the palace entrance. You steal away inside and get the message to the king.

 

~*~

 

The first mistake the westerners made was attacking Asgard thinking them weak because of their last battle six months ago.

 

Odin’s forces are made of men who have trained for battle and have known war since their youth. Among their ranks, women just as equal in skill and ferocity can be found. To fight is to defend the realm, and these warriors live to see their beloved city prosper.

 

At their head is the crown prince, Thor, leading. In his silver armor, red embellishments, and winged-helm, he wields his mighty weapon, the hammer Mjolnir. The god of thunder calls lightning down upon his enemies with just a lift of Mjolnir, demolishing a whole troop in one go.

 

Flanking him is the trickster, younger prince, Loki. His green and gold decorated armor is accentuated even more by the glow of his emerald magic. The god of mischief wields his sorcery the way a warrior wields a sword, with ease and as an extension of their body. He makes copies of himself using confusion and chaos to draw out the targets, and then with a flick of his wrists daggers lodge into their ribs and throat.

 

Together the princes lead the army and sorcerers in battle with a force that’s hard to match.

 

The second mistake the westerners made was underestimating the added power the foreigners bring to the fight.

 

Many have come to learn about the two foreign women that now reside within the palace gates of Asgard. Hailing from a different galaxy, they contain inside them mysterious power that has won its own myths and rumors among the realm.

 

Fire and darkness are the manifestations of your friend’s power. A warrior through and through, her sword made of darkness slices through flesh and bone. Screams emanate from those that fall to her ring of flames. As she leaps into the air to avoid attacks, she drops with her sword turned daggers to cut the attackers' throats with an unmatched swiftness. She morphs her dark daggers back into her sword and rushes the next target, never missing a step once.

 

Her Emerald Prince duplicates her form and sends the second image into the enemy’s ranks to quickly instill fear and distraction, only to find an empty shell and a dagger in their heart.

 

You are altogether different. Smaller than your friend, and a dwarf to the Asgardians, you are sly and stealthy. Slipping through a man’s guard has always been one of your personal fighting skills, now it’s made all the easier by the grander stature of the enemies.

 

With a quick succession of punches, you not only unarm them but render them useless as you trigger every vulnerable pressure point open to you. As you wield your staff, you break an enemy’s arm, causing them to drop their weapons, giving you the space to land a blow to their temple which sends them to the ground, a crumpled heap.

 

A shield of light forms as three enemies come for you at once. They find their weapons repelling back. In their distraction, you call off your shield and send three throwing knives of your own making, crystallized light like your staff, into their necks.

 

And so, you fight. You originally came to help your friend. You stayed because she swore fealty to Asgard. Even though you did not, you promised to be of aid. Now your job is not only to protect her, but also to protect the princes and those under their command. After so many years of travel, you finally get to reunite with your best friend. You’re not about to let another battle separate you again.

 

It is the Ruby Prince that sends them running. When his hammer mows a clean line right through the ranks, the westerners call for their retreat.

 

As the call is passed through the enemy’s ranks and see the remainder of their forces begin to flee, you do not pursue like most of the Asgardians do. There’s no need to take more life. They’re leaving.

 

You clean your staff with a swipe of your hand then dismiss the weapon. Now that you can let your senses focus on things other than just the enemy, you discover the sting your wounds leave you with. You move your light to an ache near your ribs then let the light focus on the nasty slice on your left shoulder.

 

You find Thomasin and head over her way. _Let’s see how much damage you took **this** time_ , you think in grim humor. As you reach your friend, her Emerald Prince arrives as well, his usual smirk on his lips. You don’t catch his opening line.

 

“What, battles where you don’t die are boring now?” Tom taunts.

 

You roll your eyes. “He’s always bored,” you note.

 

Loki smirks. “Are you injured?” he probes Tom.

 

You scan her to find the answer for yourself, knowing she’ll lie if she really is hurt.

 

“I can hardly tell,” the prince continues. “You’ve once again led a _messy_ massacre, murderess.”

 

Your friend just shrugs easily. “War and blood are a package deal. I’m fine.”

 

_Lies_. “Right,” you counter and place a hand over Tom’s right side. Your light goes to work on mending the sword gash.

 

“It’s nothing,” she says but already her body is reacting to the easing of the pain.

 

_More lies_. You note the frown upon the prince’s lips as he watches the healing. You catch his keen, green eyes, challenging him. _Jealous?_

 

He hides the truth with a roll of his eyes.

 

You’re amused. You and the Emerald Prince have grown close enough. He mocks you, and you poke him. He finds you a fascinating, little thing. You humor him when he’s bored. He annoys you when he’s bored. You play tricks on him when _you’re_ bored. It’s a mutual thing. Or at least you say so, he’d say he’s always on one step ahead, competitive creature that he is.

 

Loki knows you stick around because of your best friend; therefore, he’s had to endure being referred to as Tom’s _boyfriend_ , a term he deems most unworthy of his status. You don’t care. He chose your friend, now he gets you, too. This is how it has always worked.

 

“Brother!” come the familiar bellow.

 

Tom, Loki, and you turn to face the Ruby Prince, bright grin on his face.

 

“Obasi is set to return. Let us report to Father,” Thor continues.

 

“If we must,” Loki sighs.

 

Thor grins at Tom and you, blue eyes alight from the battle. “Ladies,” he greets, his white teeth glistening in the sunlight.

 

You catch the roll of Loki’s eyes and chuckle quietly to yourself.

 

~*~

 

You join the Silver Queen on her rounds in the infirmary.

 

It’s only been a day since returning from battle and already there are so many changes happening. Last night you learned that Thor would be crowned king in two weeks’ time. You also found out that Loki did not take the news well. Amazing how this place can go from war to celebration in just a blink of the eye. The castle has been in a bustle all morning.

 

You decided the infirmary would be the best place to hide. At least it’s quiet and as far as you can tell, unaffected by all the hubbub the castle is humming with.

 

“Good morning, Your Majesty,” you greet Queen Frigga with a curtsy.

 

Her gray eyes fall upon your face, and she smiles kindly. She falls into step with you, accommodating to your significantly shorter stature. “Good morn. Was your sleep restful?” she asks.

 

“Uhh…” You don’t mean to hesitate or sound so bad about it, but sleep has just been a funny thing for a while now. “I certainly slept last night,” you finally answer in a sing-song manner, “thanks to your _exquisite_ ale.” You’re relieved when the queen laughs.

 

“Why does sleep come so hard?” the queen asks genuinely curious. She, too, has discovered your sleepless nights. She found out of your visits to the infirmary by word of the patients and nurses.

 

You shrug. “Experience, I suppose.”

 

Queen Frigga walks into the wing reserved for residents who need more urgent care than the other wings.

 

You immediately note that it’s full of warriors from the battle the day before. A pang in your stomach makes you feel guilty for not arriving sooner.

 

“My Queen,” one of the nurse greets with a low bow.

 

“My Queen,” the warriors repeat and place a fist over their hearts, showing their pledge. Most of them host injuries that keep them from removing themselves from their beds.

 

“Good day, everyone,” the queen greets warmly.

 

The nurses rise and the warriors ease back, most returning to their quiet chatter.

 

One soldier woman speaks up. “We have heard the news of our prince!” she states excitedly. “He will make a most excellent king.”

 

Queen Frigga’s gray eyes light up as she smiles. “Thank you, Lady Slayis. I see you’ve once again made your way to the infirmary,” Frigga notes as she inspects the woman’s injuries.

 

“Oh, but of course, with Diran’s constant need for protection, one wonders how he is even a warrior!”

 

A gruff looking warrior in the bed next to the pale woman looks up indignantly. “‘ _Constant need for protection?_ ’” he retorts. “I happen to recall _you_ were the one who wailed, seeking _my_ salvation from a sword that would have skewered you right through.”

 

The woman looks to the high-ceilings. “How did I end with this loon for a partner?”

 

The queen’s eyes are full of mirth as she applies her magic to Slayis’ stomach and arms.

 

This constant bicker must be normal for the two from the way the rest of the soldiers watch them and laugh at the goings on. Like them, you enjoy the camaraderie you are privy to when you’re around warriors.

 

One thing you really admire of the Silver Queen is her way with her king’s army. She never treats them different, rather she mothers them the way she does her own sons. Not even the patients who reside within the infirmary that aren’t warriors get quite the same treatment. It’s almost like she makes up for the fact that they must face battle and be away from family and such.

 

Likewise, the warriors entreat their queen with their stories of valor and victory, allowing themselves the small reprieve to be cared for.

 

“Star Healer,” a voice calls.

 

You’re healing another man’s shoulder as well as the wound in his thigh when you hear the name. You glance up and see that it’s Diran. “Yes?” you reply.

 

“How well do you repair bones compared to how easily you break them?” he asks loudly.

 

You note the raising of eyebrows from several other warriors. They are not unused to seeing Tom and yourself among them for training, but you’ve been most careful to not break any of _their_ bones while sparring. “Why do you ask?” you answer.

 

“It would seem that my hip is broken and perhaps a rib is cracked, breathing has caused much pain,” Diran informs you. “Does that stardust of yours heal bones?”

 

You hear the challenge of his words, yet he does not mean them unkindly. Rather, it sounds like he wants you to prove your skills to him. Why he’s so interested, you don’t know. “If you’d like, Diran, I can see to your bones,” you assure him. “Though, I will warn you, even my light cannot keep you from feeling the pain of setting a bone back in its proper place.”

 

“What is a little pain from healing in comparison to enduring this horrid ache day and night?” he counters, his jolly disposition coming through from behind his gruff demeanor.

 

“ _Please_ , Healer, the more pain he endures the better,” Slayis puts in. “Maybe he’ll finally put an end to his recklessness.”

 

The Silver Queen watches the interaction with amusement on her face, but curiosity starts to creep in. She, too, wants to know the reaches of your abilities.

 

“One moment,” you ask of them. “There you go,” you tell the warrior before you. “Rest to let the wounds finish their natural healing process, and you’ll be good to go!”

 

The man riddles his way through your words before thanking you for your service.

 

You dip your head to him before walking over to Diran. “Now, let’s see what you’ve done with your body, good fellow,” you tell him with an amused smile playing at your lips.

 

Upon reaching him, you scan his body to feel out the injuries. You discover not only his broken hip, but three major fractures in his ribs and a deep cut in his leg. The bleeding has been staunched but nothing shows that he’s been given anything to heal him.

 

Slayis notes the puckering of your eyebrows. “What is wrong?” she asks, genuine worry sets into her features.

 

You come out from your examination to meet Diran’s bright eyes. “Has anyone seen to your injuries yet?” you ask him seriously.

 

He shakes his head, a smile creeping onto his lips nestled under a thick mustache.

 

“What is the damage?” Queen Frigga asks as she passes by to reach the next patient.

 

“Broken hip, fractured ribs, deep wound in the leg,” you answer.

 

Slayis’ green eyes grow enormous. Then she turns them onto the man in a hot, green glare. “Diran!” she scolds.

 

“Be at peace, wife, all is well!” he retorts in his jolly manner.

 

You halt. “Wife?” you accidently say aloud. Immediately, your cheeks grow warm from embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound rude about that.”

 

Diran bellows out a laugh.

 

“It is not unheard of,” Slayis explains, her anger still evident on her face. “Why have you not been seen to, fool?”

 

“I have been awaiting the Healer to arrive,” Diran states easily.

 

Now it’s your turn for your eyes to bug out. “ _Excuse me?_ ”

 

He doesn’t explain, just grins at you.

 

You give a frustrated huff and summon forth your light. “Lay still,” you order, sending the light into his chest.

 

It runs over the fractures and sews them together, easing the pain of breathing. You maneuver the light down into his hip. You feel where the bone has broken, where the pieces lie. Carefully, you gather them and much like a puzzle start piecing them back together. Now that they’re in place, the hard part begins.

 

“Take a deep breath,” you order.

 

Diran complies.

 

“Release.”

 

Out the breath goes.

 

You activate the light. If fuses the bone back together, connecting marrow, tendons, muscle.

 

Diran yells.

 

_Pop!_

 

Suddenly his pain releases, and he lets out a gasp. “By the stars, woman, what have you done to me?” he exclaims.

 

“Put your bones back together,” you tell him. “I told you it would hurt.” You move the light to the wound. You must remove the bandage first. Pulling muscle and tissue is always easier than mending a bone, and it takes far less time. Soon there is no more blood and the wound is closed.

 

You stop the flow of light. “There.”

 

Diran marvels with a shake of his head. “Magnificent,” he croons. He settles back into the pillow, satisfied. “Now I shall rest well.”

 

His wife sighs in exasperation. “Smite him on my behalf, my lady,” she begs of you.

 

You glance down at Diran. _Eh, why not?_ You smack him on the shoulder.

 

“Ow! Are there not laws against a healer hurting the ailing?” he objects.

 

“Don’t ever do that again!” you scold. “You get hurt, you get help!” You know of too many who did not heed such advice and have lived with the consequences, or have not lived at all.

 

Off the side the queen smiles at your words. She approves the message.

 

“Aye, aye, starlight. I only begged to behold your miraculous work with my very eyes.”

 

With a roll of your eyes, you move on to assist another patient.

 

He’s a younger man, and he watches you with slight fear in his eyes.

 

“What’s wrong?” you inquire.

 

He’s a timid man, serves dutiful but is painfully shy. He raises his dark eyes to your own. “Does all your healing… hurt so?” he stutters out.

 

The room erupts in laughter.

 

His cheeks go red.

 

You can’t help but chuckle. “No, good friend,” you assure him.

 

His face breaks of his tension as he relaxes once more.

 

“It only hurts the hard of head.”

 

Diran scowls. “I take grave insult to that!”

 

“Good!”

 

The timid warrior laughs along with his comrades.

 

Queen Frigga and you make your way through the room, sharing in their stories and laughter. It felt like good medicine to your own weary soul.

 

~*~

 

“How’d healing go?” Tom asks as she lounges in the chair she has deemed hers within in your chamber.

 

“It was good,” you answer. “I kind of had a lot of fun with it, actually.”

 

She gives you a smile. “That’s great, friend.”

 

You nod and both fall into comfortable silence. You trace the intricate design on the comforter, thinking back on everything.

 

Thomasin is reading through a new novel.

 

“Hey,” you start. “How’s Loki taking the whole coronation thing?”

 

She raises her eyes from the book to yours. She gives a shrug. “He says he’s fine,” Tom replies.

 

“Does he mean it?”

 

She thinks on that. “I guess. I’m not quite sure yet.”

 

You nod. “Is he coming to pick you up tonight?” you probe with a chuckle.

 

Tom sends a look your way as she tries to hide her blush behind the book. “Depends on how busy he is with the preparations and stuff,” she admits.

 

Your eyebrows rise in surprise. “Damn, he must be hating that! And what is everyone even doing, the event is two weeks away!”

 

Your friend laughs. “And this is why you and I suck at planning parties.”

 

Laughter bubbles up from your chest. “How true.” You recline on your bed, letting your hair dangle over the edge, feet towards the pillows.

 

Tom closes her book and strides over. She joins you on the bed, arm to arm.

 

You both stare up at the tall ceiling. The light of the setting sun filters through the windows, illuminating the accents of the room.

 

The silence you hold is comfortable, secure. There’s a lot that could be said, but doesn’t need to be. As longtime friends, you know how to sit with one another.

 

After a while you ask, “So what’s this new book about?”

 

"Oh, you'll love it!"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guess what?
> 
> A certain good-looking Captain gets featured in the next chapter! xD
> 
> Are you ready?


	3. Flashes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Taking place a few days before the coronation up in Asgard. Let's see what's happening down on Earth.
> 
> Modern-day New York.
> 
> All Cap chapter!

Steve startles awake, sweat drenching his face and chest. His eyes scan the small, vacant room, seeing no enemy and hearing no screams. It takes several moments and even more frantic breaths before he calms his body down again. His heart still races. He grips the sheets in tight fists.

 

“Peggy? Bucky?” he asks the stiff air. He knows no one will answer him. But, oh, how his heart wishes a voice would reply.

 

Steve removes the sheets as he swings his legs over the edge of the bed. He pulls at his face. Images still flash through his mind.

 

Red Skull. Bucky falling. Peggy’s image on his compass. The freezing ocean rushing up to swallow him.

 

Steve shudders as though he feels the impact all over again. He’s gasping once more. His body quakes, his hands shake. The tightness in his chest grows. Finally, when he can’t take it anymore, he stands up in a rush, huffing.

 

Throwing the bathroom door open, Steve gruffly walks inside. He yanks back the shower current and turns on the water. He undresses and steps inside, not caring to wait for the water to warm up. The cold sting is almost a relief upon his tight body.

 

It brings grounding and with it a phantom sense of release. He stands under the fall and lets the water wash away the flashes for the time being. He knows they’ll be back. They’ve been his constant companion since he woke up a month ago.

 

The water slowly warms up and in turn softens the knots in Steve’s broad back. He stretches to further loosen up. His mind and heart ease, though he already feels the weariness that the day will bring settling into his bones. He searches his mind for the day’s plans and reviews them.

 

Fury’s nurse will arrive promptly at 8:30 in the morning to run the usual checkup. Steve then needs to make a grocery run, one of the few events that brings social contact. He should remember to pick up the daily newspaper. He considers taking a run in the park that afternoon. The weather is warming enough to make the exertion pleasant rather than a chore. Either way he will end up at the old gym by the time evening arrives.

 

He’ll punch away the flashes that come back. He’ll wear his body down. Yet no matter how hard he tries he can never wear himself enough in order to warrant a good night’s sleep. But he will try, because what else does he have?

 

Steve lets out a sigh and lets his mind return to the first item on the list: Fury’s nurse. According to the projected schedule, if everything goes well today then she won’t be back for another month. Then she will visit in three months. From there it’ll turn into a six-month routine.

 

A part of him will be relieved to not have to see the intense woman again so soon, and yet she’s been his only visitor since living at his apartment. He thinks he’ll actually miss her.

 

Steve remembers back to his first two weeks after waking.

 

Fury placed him in one of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s safe houses, a small cabin removed from the main buzz of the city in order to help him adjust to being awake and functioning again. He lived in that seclusion with only files of information to keep him busy. He read up on the victory that soon followed his disappearance into the ocean. He read up on his friends, their lives and their deaths. He discovered that Peggy still lives but he has yet to bring himself to visit her. How could he when she’s in her nineties and he’s still in his twenties?

 

The nurse would visit him every other day to check his vitals, his blood pressure, the state of his mind’s activity, and other things. At first, she was strict and serious, just doing her job, no room for games or anything else. Yet after a few days something must’ve changed her mind about him or the situation. She became more playful, feisty even. Soon Steve learned that was just her nature. A general, coworker camaraderie began from that point on between them.

 

This was his life before Fury released him, and Steve was finally given a little apartment in Manhattan. He’s been adjusting to the city’s noise. It’s different from the ruckus he remembers. All the modern technology hardly makes any sense to him, and it’s been his biggest frustration to work with. It makes him tired and feel incompetent, even more useless and out of place.

 

Steve sighs again and turns off the water. He pinches the bridge of his nose. The iron grip of loneliness squeezes his heart.

 

Steve Rogers, the man out of time.

 

~*~

 

Carla’s sharp rap on the door comes at exactly 8:30 that morning.

 

“Come in,” Steve calls.

 

The door creaks open and a medium-sized Latina woman enters. She has strong arms and a determined step. Today she wears red scrubs with lipstick to match. Her thick, brown hair is pulled back into a high, tight ponytail. She carries her purse tucked under one arm and a recyclable shopping bag under the other. “Captain,” she greets as always.

 

“Good morning, Carla,” Steve replies.

 

She sets the bag down on the kitchen counter and starts taking her things out.

 

“Coffee?” Steve offers her a cup of the steaming substance.

 

Carla takes it and swallows a swig as her eyes scour the sheet on her clipboard. The corner of her lips rise to tell of how she is pleased with her drink.

 

Steve long ago learned how she liked her coffee: black, hot, with a dash of sugar. He makes it just so for her every morning she comes.

 

“Have you had breakfast this morning?” Carla asks him.

 

“Just finished,” he replies.

 

“Are you still eating regularly?”

 

“Three square meals a day.” Steve gives her sharp eyebrow raise a lopsided grin.

 

Carla checks things off the sheet. “Exercise?”

 

“Twice a day.”

 

“Sleep?”

 

“Eight hours every night.”

 

Carla catches the hidden weariness in his voice as she takes another drink of her coffee. _Nightmares_. “Socializing?”

 

Steve opens his mouth to answer but a retort doesn’t come fast enough. His blue eyes watch Carla shake her head.

 

“Captain, you need to be with people,” she tells him as she makes a note on the sheet. “You can’t keep living boxed up like this.”

 

Steve sighs and slouches in the chair. “It’s not that easy,” he admits.

 

Carla takes a sip from her coffee and grabs her stethoscope. “Don’t slouch, Captain, it’s bad posture,” she reprimands, stepping closer to check his heart and lungs.

 

He chuckles and does as told. He’s used to the cold bite of the stethoscope’s diaphragm on his skin.

 

“Deep breaths,” Carla commands and listens.

 

They go through the usual routine. She checks his glands, temperature, and blood pressure. He lets her update him on the latest drama between the other nurses and workers. There’s never a lack of juicy gossip with Carla around.

 

“Everything good?” Steve asks as the nurse puts her things back in the bag.

 

“Yes, sir! And I’m not due to return in a month,” Carla notes and finishes off her coffee.

 

Something gnaws uncomfortably at Steve’s stomach. “You know, you could drop by sooner...” he starts. “Who else will I make coffee for?”

 

Carla watches him with her deep, brown eyes. “Captain, go to a party, make some friends!”

 

Steve gives a humorless laugh. “How? Not many out there share the same life experiences I’ve gone through.” _Plus, no one wants a fossil for a friend_ , he thinks to himself.

 

She clicks her tongue. “Someone wants your old soul. But if you want to find them, you need to get your ass out there!”

 

This time Steve laughs genuinely.

 

Carla takes out a covered dish from her bag and walks back over. “Get a girlfriend, Captain,” she states with a cocky smile. “You could use someone to keep your bed warm.”

 

His cheeks flush pink.

 

She gives a charming laugh and sets the dish on the table. “No one likes eating dessert alone. Apple pie?”

 

Steve smiles. It’s his favorite. He’d forgotten how much Carla loves feeding everyone. Even when she first started taking care of him she would bring him desserts and dishes for him to eat. He’s never been disappointed. “What about you? Have you any boyfriend?” he asks.

 

Carla gathers her things. Her ponytail swinging as she shakes her head. “Not yet, Captain,” she says with a teasing laugh. “I’m too much for them.” She winks and heads to the door. “I’ll see you in two weeks, Captain. Be sure to have my coffee ready. I’ll bring breakfast.”

 

And with that she makes her exit, leaving Steve with a smile on his face.

 

~*~

 

Agent Castillo strides into Agent Coulson’s office the moment she makes it onto the grounds.

 

Agent Coulson glances up from his discussion with one of the higher ups. “One moment,” he instructs and returns to his hushed delegations.

 

Agent Castillo pulls out her hand mirror from her purse and starts checking on her makeup. No mascara smudges. Her eyeliner is still perfect, but her lips need a touch up. She pulls out her rose-red, matte lipstick and delicately applies it to her full lips. After seeing to all the discrepancies, she returns her lipstick and mirror back to their place in her purse. She patiently waits her turn.

 

“Thank you, Agent Walker,” Agent Coulson says, shaking the man’s hand. “I’ll be seeing you soon.”

 

Agent Walker nods a farewell to Agent Castillo and heads out the door.

 

Agent Coulson adjusts his office chair to face forward once more. “Carla, good to see you,” Coulson greets with a pleasant smile. “How is our special man doing?”

 

Carla takes a seat and gives Coulson a satisfied smile. “Perfect as always,” she reports.

 

“Good! How is he adjusting to living on his own?”

 

“He’s surviving on his own. He needs to meet people. If his fear of the world keeps holding him back he’ll never be himself again.”

 

Coulson nods taking that in. “And, of course, you’ve been encouraging him in this endeavor?”

 

“Yes, sir. I’ll be visiting him in two weeks.”

 

Coulson tilts his head in curiosity. “Taking him out on a date, Carla? I didn’t picture him as your type,” he teases.

 

Carla raises her sharp eyebrow and states, “You are correct, Agent. I’m simply having breakfast with him. If I can get him out, I will.”

 

“Very well, be sure to report back.”

 

“Yes, sir.” Carla grabs her things and stands up. “Oh, before I forget…” She digs around her shopping bag. “Apple fritters, Agent?”

 

Agent Coulson grins and receives the dish. “You truly are a gem, Carla. Thank you.”

 

Agent Carla Castillo nods, a pleased smile on her red lips, and walks out.

 

~*~

 

Steve sits on a bench at the park. He decided on the run, but now he rests in the warm sun and sketches. It’s been a very long time since he’s picked up a pen and sketchbook to draw. When he did the promo tour, drawing was what got him through the late evenings. But after he rescued Bucky and took to the front lines with the Howling Commandos, his love of drawing was set to the side. That’s not his life anymore, though.

 

 _So why not pick it back up_ , he thought to himself earlier.

 

Steve thinks back on his time at the art school. He and Bucky loved their classes. He wishes he would’ve finished his degree before the war arrived.

 

He doesn’t notice at first since his thoughts keeps stealing his attention, but Steve is sketching out a shield. It’s round and has three rings within it. The center circle holds a star in its middle.

 

His shield, his design. A gift from Howard. A means of protection. A nod to his nation. A symbol of what he stood for.

 

Steve’s body tenses.

 

Peggy shoots at his shield in her anger.

 

Steve protects Bucky from the ray gun but the blast knocks out the train’s side.

 

Flames and shots soar through the air.

 

Watching Red Skull as he burns from the Tesseract.

 

Steve gasps, dragging his mind away from the flashes. He’s gripping the bench’s armrest painfully tight. Blood drums in his ears as he tries to regain his breath. His chest hurts as he keeps gasping for breath. Sweat beads his brow.

 

The sketchbook and pen lay on the grass at his feet.

 

Steve quickly gathers them up and starts making his way to his motorcycle. It’s time to go to the gym.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Steve, even as I wrote this my heart went out to him.
> 
> Feel free to leave comments, suggestions, on my writing or the story. Trying to use this as a way to improve, and feedback is greatly appreciated! ^_^


	4. When It Rains, It Pours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to Reader we return!
> 
> Quick note: because Asgard is not my main setting for the story, but Warrior's, I did a lot of condensing to get through a large part of this to move forward with my plot. If you want the whole three chapters, go read her piece for bigger, better flushed out details.
> 
> And thank you for being patient with my storytelling!
> 
> =)

_People. People, people, people. Why must there be so many **fucking** people?_

 

You’re practically glued to Tom whose eyes constantly scour the room. Not that you’re any less restless. Neither of you have good experiences with crowds. If you can avoid them, you will.

 

The two weeks have finally passed, and the fateful day is upon the realm. It’s time for the coronation. The feasts have been prepared, the room is decorated, and the guests have arrived. All is well and good; the royal entourage just needs to enter.

 

So, as you stand at the back of the throne room, stuffed full of Asgardians, all you can really do is take in people’s backs and ornate garb. Ignoring the sea of essences and the nerves intermixed with excitement that everyone is putting off, you work to keep your breathing steady and your feet from escaping.

 

 _I can do this. It’s just the ceremony. It won’t last long. I can make it_ , you chant mentally.

 

The resounding blow of the horns startle you out of your anxious thoughts. The golden doors are opened and soon the Warriors Three stride in. Lady Sif accompanies them. The whole room applauds and grants them welcome.

 

You can feel the anticipation building.

 

The roar grows louder as the Silver Queen and the Emerald Prince waltz in, making their way to the golden throne at the front of the room.

 

Everyone expects the doors to open again. But no Ruby Prince enters.

 

Murmuring begins from the back of the crowd which is closest to the doors and makes its way up. They wait eagerly to see if he’s just delayed.

 

Tom and yourself wait with them, keenly watching. It’s not uncommon in your experience for things to go wrong at this point in time.

 

Talk and whispers have begun. The Asgardians are shifting from anticipation to worry, even disappointment. The emotions roll like waves, infecting one another.

 

You have no way of gauging the royals’ reactions since you’re both too far away to feel them and too short to see them. But morale is lowering quickly. “Where do you think he is?” you ask Thomasin.

 

With a quick glance to the doors, she gives you a shrug. Your friend is absently worrying her lip. Her eyes keep going up to the dais where the royal family stands awaiting the prince’s arrival, as though trying to listen in to the goings-on up there. There are too many people in between, though.

 

It’s almost when you yourself are getting too antsy waiting to see whether or not Thor will appear that the grand doors fly open. The Ruby Prince makes his presence known.

 

The people erupt with thunderous exultation.

 

With a roll of your eyes you think, _Ah, that’s why you waited_. You watch with only slight amusement as Thor swaggers in, relishing in the praise of his beloved people.

 

They sing his praises, chant his name, practically swoon at the sight of him. And he loves it, you know. It doesn’t take long to lose sight of him, but it’s easy to feel where he’s at by the way the people react when he is near them.

 

You let yourself relax, your tight shoulders easing. It puts your mind at rest knowing that he was just playing a game, as opposed to something else happening.

 

Upon reaching the throne, Thor kneels before the king and queen. Odin knocks the butt of his spear into ground, bringing silence to the vast room.

 

Tom exchanges a glance with you.

 

You give her a nod and listen in.

 

“As king of Asgard, I have defended the lives of the innocent from across the Nine Realms,” Odin’s deep voice rolls across the crowd. “It is no easy task, and not one I pass on lightly. Thor Odinson, my heir and firstborn, think carefully upon my words.

 

“I have sacrificed much to achieve peace for our kingdom. So, too, must the new king sacrifice to uphold this peace. This requires duty, humility, honor, and responsibility. These virtues are to be upheld by any man, woman, or child, from the lowliest commoner… to the reigning king.

 

“Upon this evening, I entrust to you the sacred throne of Asgard. So first, I ask you this once more: Do you find yourself capable and ready to ascend to the throne?”

 

“I am,” Thor declares, voice thundering.

 

“Thor Odinson, do you swear to guard the Nine Realms, to uphold the safety of the innocent, and reign with truth and honor?” Odin continues.

 

“I swear.”

 

“Do you swear to preserve the peace and bring prosperity to this kingdom to the best of your ability?”

 

“I swear.”

 

“Do you swear to cast aside all selfish reasoning and ambition, so that you may truly pledge yourself to your people and your realms?”

 

“I swear,” the Ruby Prince pledges.

 

“Then on this day, I, Odin Allfather,” the king proclaims, “relinquish the throne and proclaim….” His thunderous voice ends abruptly.

 

The people seek out their king, confused by his silence.

 

Your brows come together. _That’s not right_.

 

Suddenly, chill creeps up from the ground that soon permeates the air and causes the hair on the back of your neck to stand on end.

 

Then the king’s voice roams over the crowd, “Frost giants.”

 

Panic ensues, and the sea of people dissolves into a flood of screaming and fleeing.

 

“Tom,” you alert.

 

“Let’s go,” your friend states and begins pushing her way towards the throne.

 

~*~

 

You trailed Tom all the way down the stairs, deep into the belly of the palace, into the Vault. The icy chill growing colder the further you descended. What you discovered there was not what you anticipated.

 

Tall creatures, blue of skin with red eyes laid slain on the ground. Next to them were Asgardian soldiers, also dead. Among the skirmish could be found a small chest, glowing blue from a cold essence within. It pulsed with power, warning against being touched. The room was incredibly cold, nearly allowing you to see your very breath.

 

The God King returned the Casket back to its pedestal, risking no one coming near it. Soon after, you and the rest who were not the princes and the king were dismissed. Much needed to be discussed among them.

 

You tugged Thomasin away, who watched Loki very carefully. You both follow the Warriors Three and the Lady Sif back to the main floor of the palace.

 

Everyone anticipates having to wait a long time but Thor appears within a few moments. In his anger, his heavy footsteps cause electricity to crackle as he storms through the room. His friends quickly follow him.

 

Wary of the lightning he can pull forth to himself, you keep your distance yet watch as everyone looks to the Ruby Prince with unspoken questions, obvious worry, and great concern.

 

The Emerald Prince soon emerges, and your friend takes his side.

 

You trail them silently. The lack of words from all cause the tension to pull tight like the string of a bow. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt your senses swim through so much pressure.

 

As everyone follows the raging Thor, you all find yourselves in the feasting hall. It is not long before Thor overturns a table full of food, fruits, and drink. Everything crashes and spills onto the ornate floor. His friends try talking to him but it only sends him further into the room, away from the rest.

 

After Loki assess his brother, he looks to Tom and you. “Perhaps you’d best return to your chambers,” he says quietly. “No one will be of pleasant company this evening.”

 

Your eyes travel back to the Ruby Prince, currently redder with rage than his scarlet cape.

 

“You’re kidding, right?” Tom retorts, eyeing her prince as her jaw begins to set.

 

Per usual, she receives his princely scowl as a reply, displeased with her response.

 

You intervene. “We’re sticking around in case there’s reason,” you explain more diplomatically. “Just like the others.”

 

Loki runs his emerald eyes over you two and is met with identical set gazes. He isn’t going to get either of you to move. Settling with the result, he turns on his heel and strides to his brother, green cape billowing.

 

In the prince’s wake approaches the dashing Fandral. “Have you any advice to aid our prince?” he asks, forcing a charming grin to ease himself and the Lady Sif who trails him.

 

With raised brows, Tom glances down at you.

 

You know the look: _This is your area of expertise_. You meet Fandral’s worried eyes. “It’s best to let him vent,” you answer. “He will think far more clearly when he’s calmed. Hopefully Loki can bring him to that point.”

 

A scoff escapes the Lady Sif’s lips. “The Silvertongue?” she looses. Almost immediately her eyes fall on Tom, who meets her with a serious gaze.

 

Since they’ve been together, most of Thor’s friends have eased on their suspicions of the younger prince. But it’s tense times like these that bring up old habits.

 

Fandral watches uncomfortably silent.

 

“If anyone could get through to Thor with words, it would be his brother, Loki,” you further press. “I suggest that you as his friends hope that he does, lest you wish to deal with Thor’s rage even more personally.”

 

Neither Sif nor Fandral can help their slight grimace.

 

You check in on your friend.

 

She gives you the slightest of nods.

 

“This is madness!” Loki cries out. “Surely you can see that!”

 

Everyone turns towards the brothers.

 

“What is madness?” Volstagg inquires in his loud voice.

 

Loki glances over. “Nothing,” he replies. “Thor made a jest, on which I called him on.”

 

Thor quickly opposes. “The wellbeing of Asgard is of no jest, brother.” He turns to his friends. “We’re going to Jotunheim,” he announces.

 

“What?!” Fandral exclaims, jaw wide open.

 

 _Uhhh… yeah, that_ , you think. _That was **not** how that was supposed to go_. You end up watching the four friends argue with the prince on the matter. There’s a feeling in your stomach that tells you the expected outcome shall be their agreement to see this through. You sigh quietly.

 

“I mean, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m down to go fuck up some Frost Giants,” Tom states with a smirk.

 

_Yup, there it is!_

 

“You would go with me? Truly?” Thor asks, genuinely shocked.

 

“Thomasin,” you call to your friend. “Listen…Odin isn’t sending you. I don’t think it would be very wise to pick a fight with these people. It’s not our battle.”

 

“She’s right,” Loki add. “It’s _not_ your battle.”

 

The fact that Loki agrees heartily with you doesn’t sit too terribly well in your stomach. What does he know that makes him want to keep your friend so far away from the action? And now with _that_ gnawing at the back of your mind, you know exactly what you’re going to do.

 

“It matters not,” Thor interrupts. “My friends, please trust me now. For the good of Asgard… for the good of the realm, we must do this. You rode with me to war not half a year ago. Who stands with me now?”

 

It takes a moment but the Warriors Three and the Lady Sif accept the challenge.

 

Then Thor invites his brother as well, and Loki finds himself surprised. “Come again?” Loki asks.

 

“Well, are you coming with me, or are you not?” Thor asks, excitement growing on his face.

 

“Yes, of course.”

 

Smiling, Thor looks to Tom.

 

She’s already smirking. “Yeah, I’m coming, too,” she tells. Her eyes fall on you. “You can stay if you want,” she says to you.

 

 _Oh, **whatever**. Like that’s happening_. You roll your eyes. “ _Someone_ has to watch your back,” you poke. “I’m already a dwarf here. Might as well go see some real giants.”

 

“Excellent, excellent, excellent!” Thor states with a laugh. “We shall make a proud statement, to be sure! Come, we leave at once!”

 

And with that, the entourage of eight makes their way towards the Watcher’s residence.

 

You did not imagine standing before the Guardian of Realms once more so soon. And you are hardly impressed with the way these princes handle their matters, but you wait quietly for the sign.

 

And it comes, through the slight nod of the Watcher.

 

You enter the observatory once more and note the way the Seer watches you. He seems to be asking whether you should truly enter, or not. You give him a nod of your own to suggest that you would not leave these people.

 

Once everyone is inside and ready, Heimdall places his sword in the trigger, starting up the Bifrost.

 

Suddenly it feels like your core is absorbing shock. You clutch your stomach. As the energy builds, the more your power screams to get out. Your vision blurs. With the deafening hum above you, you crouch to protect your core. Your muscles feel like they work to keep you whole. And as the sword triggers the Bifrost, you scream as your body pulls apart.

 

~*~

 

You can’t breathe one moment. In the second, your falling. And then the next thing you know, your body slams into hard, frozen ground. The hit sends you skidding away. And where you thought you might’ve stopped on solid ground, you soon find yourself going over the edge of a cliff, a yelp escaping you.

 

It is your frantic mind that saves you. Your body reacts even while your thoughts are not fully formed yet. Your hands grip the ledge, keeping you from falling a very long way down. Panic causes your breaths to quicken, leaving puffs of fog in your face. Your fingers tremble from your weight and the cold that is seeping into them.

 

“Help,” you cough up.

 

“Healer!” Sif calls, drawing the group’s attention to you.

 

Thor quickly arrives at the edge of the cliff and easily hauls you up. “Alright there, Healer?” he checks.

 

You nod and hug yourself. You hide your frozen fingers in your armpits to summon some warmth to them again. Leathers are not made for this kind of weather. Your stomach churns uncomfortably as you hold yourself up on wobbly legs.

 

“You good?” Tom asks as she approaches, her own leathers covered in snow.

 

Once more you nod, unsure that your voice works yet. Now that the spinning in your head has stopped, you let your eyes roam over the frozen terrain.

 

Jotunheim. A realm that must’ve once been icily beautiful is now hardly more than frozen ruins. Everything is massive, even the dilapidated ruins. They far outstretch anything the Asgardians have. And where you are a dwarf in Asgard, you are but a mouse here.

 

The deeper the company moves the more you begin to wonder what it’s like to see one of these Frost Giants standing, as opposed to lying lifeless on the ground. It does not take long to find out. For the further in you step, the more you feel them gathering around you.

 

“Those who come only to speak do not bear such weapons,” a rough voice greets.

 

Your breath hitches as your eyes make their way up the intimidating figure before the company. _A giant is correct_ , you think. _Damn_.

 

He’s nearly twice as tall as the Asgardians. Their blue skin looks tough and worn, and it accents the blood red of their eyes, which are glaring down.

 

The ensuing conversation only manages to bring about two things: their king and more Jotun soldiers.

 

You don’t expect any of this to go well, so you’re prepared to pull up a shield at any moment’s notice. Though as you listen, you find yourself curious about how these two warring realms came to be at war in the first place. _If the Casket is theirs, why do the Asgardians have it? If it’s so dangerous, why hasn’t it been destroyed? Is it not cruel to taunt everyone with power that no one can use?_ You’ve never understood politics, and you’ve still no care to want to.

 

There comes a point when Thor with the help of Loki acquiesces to King Laufey’s invitation to leave. Much to everyone’s relief, they turn and begin the trek back to the entrance.

 

But laughter rings about. “Run back home, little princess, lest your father find out what you’ve done,” a Jotun taunts.

 

 _Shit_.

 

The Ruby Prince halts, a wide grin spreading upon his features. With a swift grab of his hammer, Thor rams the weapon into the Jotun, launching him into a far-off ruin.

 

All weapons come out then, except for yours. You’re momentarily caught up in a most intriguing curiosity.

 

The Jotnar summon their power from the ice around them, forming frozen breastplates and swords to fight with.

 

 _Huh! Funny. I can work with that_ , you think, only slightly amused. You reach out to the ice upon their bodies and call out to the water within, melting the ice.

 

They are stunned to feel blades cut their skin.

 

And so, it continues. You deflect and protect with your shields and then equally work to undo the ice the Jotnar form. It’s like playing tug-of-war: one moment you have control over the water, and the next they turn it back to ice again. You’re grateful for Tom’s fires. As they melt the ice, you have more dominion over what you can do.

 

One such thing is using the ice against the giants. While they wield the power of ice, they are not impervious to its other effects.

 

You freeze their feet in place to allow the warriors to run closer in order to get better hits. You use their own ice to build walls for them to move through to slow them down. You even try making stakes of ice like they do and send them into their own blue skin. This wears on your energy but it’s also the only thing you have enough time to do. While your throwing knives might be of use, your ability to manipulate the water is far more advantageous at the moment.

 

“Don’t let them touch you!” comes Volstagg’s warning.

 

You glance back and get a quick look at the dark, cracking flesh left on the warrior’s arm from the giant’s touch. “Look out,” you warn Sif and summon up a wall of ice. “Volstagg!” you call, and the moment he acknowledges you, you throw a ball of light at him.

 

He catches it with his arm, and it immediately goes to work on reviving his dying skin.

 

You don’t have time to see if it works before having to return to the giants at hand. You’ve long given up on using any of your light. While your shields are handy, it’s the ice that’s the problem. And when you see a massive spike of ice rise from the ground and move to strike Loki’s chest, you reach out and call the water away, leaving nothing but a puddle at the prince’s feet.

 

Suddenly you get slammed from the side and go skidding across the frozen, jagged ground. Trying to gather your breath while finding your feet again takes too much time.

 

The Frost Giant forms his sword and swings.

 

A shield forms around you but the blade of ice strikes a blade of darkness. Tom fights the giant back before setting him afire.

 

You call off your shield and take your friend’s extended hand. Once up you both take your own routes and continue with the fight. You find Sif and Hogun and work to give them as much of the upper hand as you possibly can. As you melt one spike, you make a wall on the other side. As they crash through, you liquify their armor and weapons.

 

An agonizing cry startles you. At the same time a Frost Giant slashes at you. Thankfully due to your height, you successfully duck from the blows. At the next opening, you liquify the sword and shift the water at the giant’s feet to throw him off balance.

 

Tom shouts your name.

 

“A second!” you call and jump over the giant. Your eyes search for the wounded and find Fandral impaled on an ice spike growing from the ground. You call the water and watch the man fall to the ground with a painful thud. You don’t get the chance to go after him as the giant at hand comes at you once more.

 

Sif comes to your aid and you give her the opening she needs to take him down. “Thor!” she calls out.

 

No answer is given.

 

Hogun joins once more and the three of you work through the line of Frost Giants.

 

Suddenly a jarring tremor rises from the frozen ground.

 

You don’t have time to stop and analyze with the army before you.

 

“Something’s moving down there, guys!” Thomasin warns.

 

“Do you know what that is?” you ask your two companions.

 

“No, but it doesn’t sound good,” Sif answers.

 

You would search out the thing that lurks beneath but more and more giants keep appearing. A new wave approaches quickly.

 

“There are too many!” Sif calls out to the others.

 

You reach out around the ring and undo the giants’ armor.

 

It’s at that moment that Thor calls down a bolt of lightning to strike the Jotnar.

 

As the electricity runs through the water, it takes you with it. With a strangled scream, you fall on a knee, your body aching with the shock.

 

“Thor!” Sif pleads.

 

“Run!” Volstagg calls back.

 

“We need to go,” Hogun says and pulls you back onto your feet.

 

The three of you start making your way to the rest of the group. Up ahead you can see Volstagg dragging Fandral away. As Thor uses more lightning, Hogun keeps you moving even as your body tries to convulse from the electricity burning through your veins.

 

As you reach the rest, you break off and meet up with Fandral and Volstagg. You send your light into the injured man’s chest but the company keeps moving, making it hard to consistently work on the injury.

 

But that’s when the beast arrives. It breaks through from its underground cavern and finds its way up to the top of the ice lands. With its massive body, long teeth, and giant claws, one can’t help but take in the frightening creature. It’s scaled and gray and spikes run down its back all the way to the tip of its tail. Its roar is deafening but it doesn’t stop anyone from hearing how it quickly approaches the group.

 

“Holy shit,” Tom exclaims. “Now _that’s_ a monster….”

 

You can’t help but agree silently.

 

“But…” She glances over at you.

 

You’re still taking in the creature as you nod. A worn smile touches your lips. “We’ve fought bigger,” you finish.

 

You and your friend get ready to face the beast.

 

“You’re as mad as my brother if you think you’re taking that thing on,” Loki puts forth.

 

 _We never said we weren’t mad_ , you think at him.

 

But then Thor lands among the group. “Let’s go,” he orders.

 

Everyone runs to the entrance where the Bifrost would take you all back. You’re not particularly enthralled upon entering the Bifrost channel again but if it’s the fastest way out of here, you’ll take it.

 

Just after Thor calls out to the Watcher, he turns to the beast and flies at it.

 

“He’s going to get himself killed,” Sif exclaims.

 

“What the hell does he think he’s doing?” you join.

 

“He’s going right for the head,” Tom replies.

 

The god of thunder takes his mighty hammer and summons his power. As the creature opens its mouth to welcome his meal, Thor blasts right through the beast’s throat. Teeth, blood, skin all fly forth from the wreckage, nearly making you sick to watch. The creature falls as its legs give way to its dead weight.

 

Thor joins up with the group. “Heimdall! Heimdall! The Bifrost! Quickly!”

 

You brace as you feel the familiar painful pull, but it doesn’t yank you away. Rather it brings someone else forth.

 

King Odin.

 

The Allfather comes riding in for battle, dressed in his armor upon his warhorse. With his spear in hand, his eye roams over the land.

 

The Jotun King presses forward to meet with the King of Asgard.

 

You let them have their dispute as you steal away to the back of the group to find Fandral. You beckon him to stay quiet as you press your light into his chest. You’re more worn out than you thought so your work is very slow.

 

“Silence!”

 

The whole company jumps at the Allfather’s command, and you stop your work. He strikes the ground and triggers the Bifrost.

 

You scream once more. Or rather, it is your power that screams within you.

 

~*~

 

The impact upon hitting the observatory’s floor shouldn’t have hurt more than the Jotun’s frozen ground, but it does.

 

You’re sent rolling until the walls bring your limp body to a halt. Everything inside you revolts, screams, and thrashes. You can’t breathe, and you can’t see. Your stomach rolls heavily inside. You try to gather air to calm it. Somehow you push up from the ground and manage to sit up, leaning heavily against the golden walls.

 

Your stomach is ready to empty itself from the movement alone. There’s an ache in your skull that pounds away. A groan escapes you.

 

“Healer,” Sif’s voice comes.

 

You wave her off. You likely can’t stand. And doing so might only result in spilling your guts on the beautiful ground.

 

There’s yelling going on but your mind can’t fully register it. As you force your eyes open you see the eldest prince and his father arguing. You can feel the tensions building, anger is permeating the room, and it makes your stomach groan. You shift onto your hands and knees, afraid of what’s coming.

 

Then you feel it again. Lightning.

 

Odin’s anger summons the electric energy to himself. The Bifrost starts humming again.

 

_No!_

 

And now you can’t even scream, for the pain steals away your voice. You hear yelling. You feel power rising. But all you can think is that your body is going to explode from the searing pain it’s in.

 

It all strikes together.

 

The Bifrost, the lightning, the struggling powers, all send you flying through the portal of space. You try saving yourself by calling to your light. It blocks the pain but, without your knowledge, all you do is send yourself shooting off-course. At that moment, you lose any kind of consciousness, everything finally being too much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you guess where we're headed next? ;)


	5. The Falling Star

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First meeting!! =D

The long drive out that evening did Steve’s restless soul well. He decided on going to the beach. He took a long walk. The breeze cleared his mind of the weariness he carries. The buzz of the social activity was a welcome distraction. He felt like it was a safe place to wander to. It made him want to spend the night there but, in the end, he decided to head home.

 

Steve watches the stars fill up the night sky as he makes his way back towards the city. He’s out later than he intended and fatigue is pulling at his body. He looks forward to a good shower and his bed.

 

As he looks upon the stars, one catches his eye. It’s uncommonly bright and moving across the sky, a tail following it.

 

“Well look at that, a shooting star,” Steve marvels. He pulls his blue truck over to the side of the road. _Better make a wish, Steve_ , he thinks to himself, only half teasing. He watches the star cross the sky, beautifully streaking through the darkness.

 

And in that moment, he decides to make a wish. He can’t bring himself to voice it even in his mind, but in the depths of his heart he makes a wish.

 

The star’s so bright, shimmery even, and it’s _big_!

 

There’s something strange about it, though. It’s lowering. It’s also getting... bigger... _really_ fast.

 

_It’s not shooting… it’s **falling**!_

 

And before he knows it, the star crashes.

 

An explosion of shimmer bursts forth. A shockwave of light expands from the impact. It knocks hard into the side of Steve’s truck. There’s a high-pitched screech that would make milk curdle. Slowly, the shower of light fades. Darkness and silence fall once more.

 

Steve stares in shock for a several seconds before he gets out of the truck and runs for the landing site. He finds the crater easily enough.

 

It’s a perfect circle imbedded into the ground. While normal craters would create fissures in the dirt from breaking it, this crater is perfectly filled and full of wildflowers.

 

No star lies within.

 

_Where is it? Where’d it land?_

 

Steve tries to understand what he’s seeing when he hears a pain-filled cry. His blue eyes search the dark grounds. Finally, they catch movement, faint and far off. He hurries over. What he finds makes his heart jump.

 

It’s not a star.

 

It’s you.

 

~*~

 

When you finally crash into the earth, the impact sends you skidding across the rough dirt, knocking the breath out of you. Upon coming to a stop, you desperately try to breathe, only to find that to breathe means to inflict pain upon yourself. It leaves you crying out in agony.

 

You have broken several ribs which make breathing feel like someone set a match to your lungs. Your arm has several fractures and your collarbone isn’t positioned correctly. Even in the dark it’s noticeable that your face is bruised and bleeding. The leathers you’re wearing are torn and pieces have broken off from the hit, leaving places on your legs and core exposed and bleeding from the cuts found there. On top of all that, your stomach feels like churned mush.

 

Breathing hurts like hell. Fire stabs at your ribs every time you take in some air. Yet you somehow turn onto your back.

 

Someone stands above you, and you gasp. You immediately wish you hadn’t. You writhe as the fire spreads throughout your chest.

 

“Don’t move,” the man orders.

 

You don’t think you can oppose even if you wanted to. You manage to open your eyes again and see a young, blond guy surveying you. You make out worry on his strong features.

 

“We need to get you to a hospital,” Steve assesses and moves to pick you up.

 

“No!” you shout then shriek in pain.

 

Steve’s heart tightens. “You need to see a doctor!”

 

You shake your head and give a mangled cry again. Tears run down the side of your face from the pain you’re in. “No, _please_ ,” you choke out. “Not the hospital. Please. Don’t need one.” There’s a hammer pounding in your brain, stemming from the use of energy that you don’t have.

 

“You’re going to bleed out,” the guy insists.

 

You barely shake your head. “I heal,” you rasp out. “Just let me heal. Promise. No… hospital.” You’re losing consciousness. “Just need… rest…. I’m... fine….”

 

“Like hell you are,” Steve growls out.

 

But you pass out before you have the chance to respond.

 

“No!” Steve calls. Then he gasps and pulls back from you.

 

You don’t stir. You’re barely even breathing. But you’re glowing. A faint light illuminates your chest. It swims to your broken collarbone and slowly repairs the damage.

 

Steve hears the bones pop into place and watches it fill out your upper chest properly.

 

You whimper at the work but when it’s done, you give a moan of relief, still deep in your wound-induced coma.

 

Steve watches the strange glow move to the back of your head. He guesses that you’re probably bleeding there too. He rubs his eyes a moment. _This isn’t normal. She’s actually **healing**. By light! This makes not one damn bit of sense_.

 

Steve sits back on his heels and stares up at the stars. You just fell from them. He watched you. He glances back over at the strange crater filled with flowers. Along the path, he finds an odd lump that doesn’t fit the rest of the terrain. Steve jumps up and goes over to it.

 

It’s a little sling bag.

 

He looks back at you. _It must be yours_ , he thinks. He eyes the bag a moment longer before picking it up and opening it. He doesn’t expect to find a book and some trinkets inside, as though you were just going out for a walk in the park. For the hit you took, the bag is fairly intact.

 

Steve’s blue eyes find you again. They take in the light still at work at the base of your head. He remembers your plea to not be taken to the hospital. “Well I can’t just leave you out here,” he mutters to himself. “Who knows who or what will find you.” S.H.I.E.L.D. comes to mind. He closes the bag with a sense of finality and returns to your side, slinging your bag onto his shoulder.

 

As gently as he can, Steve carefully lifts you into his arms and cradles you to his chest. He’s surprised by how small you are. _How did you survive that fall?_

 

You whimper as every tiny movement sends fire throughout your body. Everything feels like it’s being stabbed by shards of glass.

 

Steve holds you close to keep you from jolting as much as possible and takes you back to his truck. He won’t take you to a hospital, but there’s no way he’s just leaving you out here. He’s taking you home.

 

~*~

 

Steve easily maneuvers his way through his apartment with you in his arms. He gets you to his bedroom and very carefully places you on top of the covers.

 

You whimper quietly but settle in easily enough. The light is still at its diligent work.

 

Steve’s eyes roam over your foreign garb.

 

To him the leathers look like they came out of a Shakespearean play, although the intricacies of the designs embossed on the worn leather attest to its authenticity. But it’s not its oddity that makes him stare, it’s the uncomfortable tightness that the leather chest piece seems to have. He doesn’t believe that you are able to breathe well in it even _before_ the damage done to your torso.

 

So, with gritted teeth, Steve starts undoing the laces. He breathes a huge sigh of relief when he discovers your undershirt beneath. He pulls the piece open.

 

You suck in a raspy breath as your stomach releases. The air pierces your lungs, making you in turn groan in pain.

 

Steve clamps down on his cheek as he gently works the chest piece off you. He knows you’re hurting but this will be more comfortable in the end. He’s not even considering touching your pants. He suspects his luck won’t hold out there, but he does remove your leather boots carefully. He is surprised to find them holding up well.

 

You settle back down once he’s done. The light finishes working on your arm and finally settles within your ribs.

 

Steve watches the strange illumination. From the way it’s been progressing, he can already tell this will be a lengthy process. He’s tired, really tired, but he doesn’t want to leave you. He watches you sleep, listening to your jagged breathing. He finally makes up his mind and goes to take a shower. He’s sure you won’t disappear in the time he’s gone.

 

The water helps settle Steve’s racing mind and tight muscles. He towels off and dresses comfortably. He grabs some couch cushions and moves them to his room. He settles down on the floor with them, against the far wall where he can see you clearly.

 

You’re still healing.

 

Steve decides to get a book to keep him busy. He’s going to make sure that you stay alive.

 

~*~

 

Agent Coulson inspects the flower-filled crater early that next morning.

 

Other agents are already running tests and analyzing the data that’s come in since late last night.

 

Coulson’s cell phone rings. He answers the call and puts the phone up to his ear. “Talk to me,” he starts.

 

A woman speaks from the other side.

 

“Are you absolutely sure about this?” Coulson asks.

 

She continues.

 

“New Mexico, then. Better get the helicopter ready.”

 

She gives a further reply.

 

“Excellent. We’ll be ready soon.” He hangs up the phone and signals to his crew.

 

They head back to their black vehicles.

 

“Agent Coulson,” someone calls.

 

He glances up and finds Agent Castillo at hand. “Would you like to take up this investigation, Agent Castillo?” he asks her.

 

“Yes, sir, I would. May I?” she replies.

 

He nods. “It’s all yours. Keep me updated.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

~*~

 

It’s early the next day by the time you open your eyes again. It takes you a while to get them open completely. Your body feels like a giant boulder rolled over it. Breathing is tiresome but at least the fires is doused. Your stomach feels nasty but you swallow it down.

 

Sunlight pours into the small room through the two windows on your right. You realize that you can hear lots of noise coming from outside. Horns, sirens, all sorts of buzzes, so much chatter, all floats up from far below. As everything starts to register better, you’re surprised to find yourself lying on a soft bed in a homey room, not out in the middle of nowhere.

 

You stupidly try to sit up. “Oh, shit,” you hiss, and immediately slump back down. You stamp down the nausea. It feels like an anvil sits on your chest. Groans escape your throat.

 

A mumble across the room catches your attention.

 

Despite the soreness in your body, you tense at the sound. You push up with the arm that took less damage to get a better look.

 

It’s a guy. A young guy, he must be in his twenties. He sleeps slumped against the corner of the room on some cushions. He has short, blond hair and a straight nose with a strong jaw. Together they create such defined lines that build his facial structure. He obviously works out from the look of his shoulders and biceps noticeable against his gray T-shirt. And judging from his long, outstretched legs, he’s tall.

 

 _He’s a good-looking fellow_ , you think for a single moment.

 

Then you slump back onto the bed. _Whoa, **no**! No, no, no, no. We are **not** going there! We are not doing that. No! No. Not again_.

 

So, you take that soft, little thought and lock it away. You struggle through a deep breath then slowly let it out. You know standing will only result in your crumpling demise so you use your eyes to search the room.

 

Directly beside the bed you find your leather chest piece, boots, and bag. Your hand jumps to your chest. You thankfully find your undershirt there. _Oh, praise the gods!_

 

You gasp through your nose and then hold in a groan of pain. _Tom! Thor! Loki!_ You don’t sense them. You don’t even know if they’re near!

 

Something went really wrong in that last use of the Bifrost. The unorthodox method Odin used to banish Thor caused a glitch for your interaction with the transporter. The magic, the lightning, the different powers, none mixed together well and as a result it repelled you.

 

Yet the only thing you remember is the searing pain of the lightning, the jellifying of your insides as you got sucked out, and the crushing impact the landing had on your body.

 

You gently creep to the edge of the bed and reach over the edge for your bag. You snatch the strap and pull it to you. When you first unzip it, you make sure everything is still inside. Nothing is missing. From there, you grab the journal and pen from inside. You quickly get to the page where you and Tom left off.

 

There’s a new message for you.

 

*

 

_HEY! ARE YOU ALIVE? Fuck the Bifrost, damn. Tell me where you are, so I can come get you._

_I’m with Thor. He’s got no powers, and he lost his hammer apparently. I kiiind of knocked him unconscious. Will be trying to convince him to come with me when he wakes up. I’m a little nervous to leave him._

_Please be okay_.

 

*

 

_Tom! I’m alive! I had a nasty crash landing. Currently healing in a safe place. I don’t know where I’m at, though, but it sounds like I’m in a city somewhere._

_Where are you? What do you mean he lost his hammer? What’s going on?! Are you both okay?_

 

*

 

 _We’re fine. Thor’s knocked out still. Met some humans that insisted on him going to the hospital. I’m waiting on him to wake up. Trying to stay awake_.

 

*

 

 _Sounds thrilling. I managed to not end up at the hospital, but that damn Bifrost really took it out of me. Rest up when you can. Let me know how things go_.

 

*

 

Steve startles awake. He squints at the streaming sunlight and rubs the sleep out of his tired eyes. As he glances over at his bed, he is surprised to find you awake, writing in a black book. “Hey, you, Stargirl,” he calls gruffly.

 

You squeak, slamming your journal shut on your friend’s next reply. Your eyes search for the voice. They land on the dude in the corner. “Uhhhh… yeah, hi,” you stutter out.

 

He narrows his eyes at you. “Who are you? What are you? How did you fall out of the sky? Where did you come from?” He stands up and briskly makes his way over to you, his presence daunting and sturdy as steel.

 

You shy back in the bed. The barrage of questions alone is enough to startle you, but now his looming figure makes you seriously worry. If you have to move it’s going to hurt, but at least you have your shields. You stare up at him wide-eyed, just waiting to see what he will do.

 

Steve takes in your defensive posture. He is clearly able to read the tumultuous ocean of worry and guardedness in your eyes. Yet even then they’re alight, keenly taking things in. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he states.

 

“I don’t entirely believe you,” you respond.

 

He huffs and pulls at his face. “I wouldn’t rescue you just to hurt you.”

 

 _Some would. Some have_. “Why did you rescue me then? I told you to leave me out there.”

 

“I wasn’t about to do that!”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because you don’t know who would’ve found you and where you would’ve ended up by the time you woke.” Steve thinks of S.H.I.E.L.D. again. He doesn’t _actually_ know if they would’ve found you but he has a feeling they would have. They have a knack for finding anomalies. _And I don’t put it past them to try something on you to get answers_. “You were vulnerable and defenseless. I was _not_ going to leave you there, hurt and bleeding.”

 

You let yourself relax. He’s being honest and genuine, you can see that much. You lick your lips. “Thank you,” you tell him. “Seriously. I appreciate your concern for my well-being.”

 

Tension leaves Steve’s shoulders and his clenched hands relax. The release softens his eyes, allowing the steel to melt away from their gentle, sky-blue color. “You’re welcome,” he replies gently.

 

Neither of you know what to say next as the awkward beginnings of acceptance settles.

 

“Umm, would you mind sitting down?” you ask him, feeling self-conscious of his alert eyes. “It hurts to crane my neck to stare up at you.”

 

“Sorry,” he apologizes and moves to the corner of the bed.

 

You place your journal and pen back inside your bag, setting in back down next to your boots. Attempting to groan as little as possible, you work to finally sit up properly. The effort really takes it out of you, leaving you leaning back heavily against the headboard. Your stomach is still incredibly unsettled.

 

“I can go out and get you some medicine,” Steve suggests, even though he doubts it’ll do anything for you.

 

You shake your head. “I’m fine. The damage is taken care of. My body just needs time to return to normal.” You close your eyes a moment to rest.

 

He notices how you breathe heavily and have a sheen of sweat on your brow. Your coloring is even tinted with red on your chest and cheeks. He worries you might have a slight fever.

 

A nasty screech outside startles you back to reality. Your eyes scan the room again before landing on the windows. “Where am I?” you ask heavily.

 

“Manhattan, New York,” Steve answers.

 

You meet his clear, blue eyes as the name and place registers and give a dry scoff. _The Ruby Prince gets banished and where’s he sent to? **Earth**. Ha! What a banishment for someone from Asgard. Damn, Odin!_

 

“What?” Steve inquires.

 

You shake your head as you haul your knees closer to your chest. “Nothing. I just never thought I’d be back here again,” you mutter. You register goosebumps on your arms and try to rub warmth into them.

 

“You’ve been here before?”

 

“In a manner of speaking.” You’re curling in further into yourself. “Do you have a sweatshirt I could borrow?”

 

Steve notes that your words come out thick and heavy. You’re hardly keeping your eyes open anymore, and your movements are slow. He promptly gets up and digs around his closet. He finds a worn pullover that looks smaller than the rest of his clothes. He returns to your side.

 

“Hey, Stargirl, wake up,” he tells you, touching your shoulder.

 

“Hmm?” you mumble, only slightly shifting to look up at him. Your eyes don’t really focus in on anything.

 

Steve can feel heat radiating from your skin. He places his hand at your forehead. You’re burning. Yet you shiver as though it’s twenty degrees out. He was right: you have a fever. “Star, you are running a dangerously high fever. Let me take you to the hospital.”

 

You thrash your head about, barely realizing that the guy is maneuvering a pullover onto you. “Nooo,” you whine, your tongue thick and dry. “Hosssspit-t-talssss are bad. They _hurt_!”

 

Steve clothes you and scoops you up. His chest suddenly grows very warm from your body’s fever. _What happened that caused so much bad to come from a hospital_ , he asks you mentally. Yet now as his eyes scour your face, he discovers scars, on your face, on your neck, on your shoulders. One in particular stands out: it slices down over your eyebrow, eyelid, and part of your cheek. A thin white line against your skin.

 

Your head dangles back in the crook of his arm. You open your eyes enough to focus on his face. You smile up at him, almost giggling. “You are… very hansssome,” you slur. Your heavy fingers trace his straight nose and soft lips. “Isss not fair….”

 

The fever knocks you out.

 

Steve is left staring at you, speechless. “What _are_ you?” he whispers.

 

Your teeth start to chatter.

 

 _Damn!_ He pulls back the covers while still holding you to his chest. He sets you back down on the bed and nestles you in.

 

Your body shakes the whole bed from how hard you tremble.

 

Steve runs into the bathroom to get a rag wet. He returns to place it on your forehead. In a matter of seconds, he watches the water disappear into your body, leaving the rag hot and dry.

 

He doesn’t understand but acts quickly. He gets a bowl full of water and several more rags. He continues to watch your body absorb the water like a desert drinks in the precious commodity. He keeps your hair back to keep your neck cool.

 

Steve takes all your scrunched-up self in, and his heart reaches out. He got no information out of you. He’s not even sure you’re human. But here he is, taking care of you. And he will continue to do so.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, I have no shame in cheesiness. Just saying. Beware of the cheese lol (>


	6. Fever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, y'all! Sorry it's taken me a little longer to post than I had originally anticipated. This week got busy for me, but I've still been writing!
> 
> So, let's see how the Captain takes to his mysterious guest. =D

Steve spends the rest of the morning monitoring your fever.

 

You run through various stages. One moment your teeth are chattering loudly, and your body is shaking so hard Steve wonders if you’re having spasms from how it jerks. The next you’re still and seem to be in a deep sleep. In this state, your face scrunches a lot, and you mutter incoherently. In the third, which has become the latest development, you whimper constantly while tossing and turning.

 

If Steve wasn’t already worried about how you’d react, he’d have taken you to the hospital by now. Yet he can’t get both of your pleas out of his mind. Something bad happened to you in a hospital, and he wants to know what it was. He wants to know your name, where you came from, why you’re here. But he isn’t going to get any of that from you if the fever takes you. He’s also never seen such a raging fever before, nor anyone fight so strongly against one.

 

It’s nearing noon when he first hears it. A name. Or so he thinks.

 

Your fever has had you muttering, but up till this point nothing has made any kind of sense. It’s mainly been moans and whimpers. But now, he swears that you said something, and he honestly believes it was a name.

 

Steve long ago moved a chair into the bedroom to sit next to you. So, as he sits, he leans in to better listen to you.

 

“Ln... Tm...”

 

Steve’s brows knit together as he tries to decipher your mumbling.

 

Your face is scrunching, making you look worried. “La...ne....” Your eyes start to move rapidly behind your eyelids. “Tom....” Your jaw tightens, and soon the rest of your body follows. Your shoulders tense, your hands fist up.

 

In your growing distress, Steve touches your shoulder gently, hoping to calm you. “Stargirl,” he beckons. “Star.”

 

But you don’t hear him. You’re caught up in your nightmares, running, searching for someone, anyone. The fever clouds your mind in darkness, oppressively shutting you in. It’s like a heavy blanket falls on your being. All you want is out. But no one is around.

 

“Tom. Layne! Where are you?”

 

“Star, can you hear me?” Steve insist a little louder.

 

“Where are you?” The dark clouds morph into shadow beings, pursuing you. You thrash within the blankets. Sweat forms on your forehead once more.

 

“Star, wake up,” Steve calls as he shakes your shoulders. He can feel the burn of your skin even through the pullover.

 

The movement only serves to startle you more. You’re gasping. Desperation defines your features. You need to get away. Run! “Tom! Layne! Where are you? Help me!”

 

Your words are only half mutters, thick from the fever, but Steve understands what you’re saying.

 

“Wher...re...ou....” Your face moves about, searching. “Where...elp....” Your arms lash out but drop heavily. Air rasps into your throat, and your eyes are squeezed tightly shut.

 

Steve kneels against the bed, and taking hold of your flushed face, he begins to shush you gently. He strokes your hair. He pets your cheek. “Listen to me. I’m here,” he tells you. “I’m here. Star, I’m here.” He presses assurance into his words and deals with you in the most soothing manner he can manage. He truly wants you to calm and be well. “I’m here.”

 

The voice breaks through the fog, and you gasp. Tranquility slowly drips into your essence. Quickly stilling to listen, you search for the voice. “Where are you?”

 

“... here... I’m...ere...”

 

“Where?”

 

“He...re...”

 

Wind blows away the fog. Clouds of darkness shift to wisps of white.

 

“I’m here.”

 

The assurance instills itself in you. Your heart lightens. The heaviness on your chest lifts. And for a split second, your eyes flutter open.

 

Steve watches as tears flow down the sides of your face into his palms. “Star.”

 

You suck in a large breath, and then with its release, you close your eyes and fall deep into the pit of sleep.

 

Steve strokes your face for a few breaths longer before finally releasing you and slumping onto the floor. He lets out a huge breath. His blue eyes roam over your still body and resting face. It would seem the fever broke, or at least it’s lessening. He notes how you breathe with your mouth open; your lips are cracked.

 

Steve pushes himself up from the floor and enters the bathroom. He refills the bowl with water and soaks some rags. Returning to his chair, he keeps your forehead and neck damp, still amazed at how quickly your skin absorbs the water.

 

Weary in body and mind, Steve sees to your needs first. He wants to know that you’re safe to leave alone for a little while. When he’s satisfied, he drags his body into the living room and crashes on the sofa. He shuts his eyes in hopes to doze off for just a short bit.

 

~*~

 

Agent Coulson peers over the edge of the massive crater. He’s only slightly amused at the rally going on around the precious artifact below.

 

“What do you want us to do, sir?” Agent Barton asks as his eyes survey the perimeter.

 

“Clear them out.”

 

“We’ll get right on it.”

 

Coulson’s phone rings. He answers and brings the receiver to his ear. “Talk to me,” he starts.

 

“ _Sir, I don’t think any kind of artifact landed here_ ,” Agent Castillo informs.

 

“You sound like you have suspicions.”

 

“ _I do_.”

 

“What do you think it is?”

 

“ _A person, sir. We found strands of hair and blood spills on the ground just a short distance from the crater itself_.”

 

“Run samples on them, track the DNA,” Coulson orders.

 

“ _Yes, sir_ ,” Castillo replies.

 

“Let me know what you find.”

 

~*~

 

It was nearly half past three before Steve remembered to eat something. After taking a near two-hour nap, he got up, ate, and checked on your progress.

 

No change.

 

You’ve thankfully not lapsed back into the frightful fever but you’ve also been very, _very_ still.

 

It’s not until nightfall that a change comes about again.

 

You start moaning. It sounds different than before. You moan like you’re in physical pain. Your body has curled in on itself again, and your hand absently clutches your stomach. Twisting from side to side, you try to ease the discomfort.

 

“Star?” Steve calls tentatively. “Star.”

 

Suddenly your eyes fly open, and your hand slaps over your mouth.

 

Steve jumps back, shock startling him.

 

You kick off the blankets and yank the hoodie off while still trying to keep your undershirt on.

 

“What’s wrong?” Steve asks trying to read your panic as you get to your wobbly feet.

 

Wide eyes frantically searching, your hand is over your mouth again, and you point to it with the other. Your stomach is literally about to come flying out.

 

Steve understands immediately. “There!” He points to the other side of the room.

 

You dart over, nearly tripping every step of the way. You don’t even go to the toilet. You throw back the shower curtain and vomit your insides into the bathtub. You have full body convulsions. You can’t remember when you last ate, much less _what_ you ate, but whether it digested or not, it’s coming back out.

 

Steve catches up quickly and lends a hand by pulling your hair away from your face. He does his best to not impose himself on you as you lean over the side of the tub.

 

Two more waves of vomit leave your mouth reeking and throat burning before your stomach settles enough for you to sit on the bathroom floor without the fear of messing it up.

 

Steve wets another rag and hands it to you. Afterwards, he turns on the faucet in the bathtub and washes its contents out as best possible.

 

You rest your cheek on the cold siding of the bathtub, grateful for the rag. You set it on your neck and hope your temperature will lower.

 

Steve leaves to find a cup and fills it with water. He returns quickly then holds it out to you.

 

With trembling hands, you take it. Doing your best not to slosh water everywhere, you take a sip to swish around in your mouth then spit it out in the tub. The rest you down in three large gulps. The icy water does wonders for your stomach. “Thank you,” you rasp out, sucking in air.

 

“It’s the least I can do,” he states.

 

You barely manage a scoff. “Bet you regret picking me up now.”

 

Steve shakes his head. “You needed the help. Still do.”

 

Your eyes rest on his genuinely concerned face. “Why do you care?” you whisper. You’ve not had someone take care of you in years now. Why does this stranger suddenly take such interest in doing so?

 

He sits back on the floor across from you. “It’s the right thing to do.”

 

A tiny smile appears on your lips as your cheek rests against the tub. “I shall repay your kindness the moment I’m able.”

 

A lopsided smile shows up, easing the concern etched on his face, reminding you of his handsome features. “There’s no need for that, ma’am. It’s a pleasure.” He nods courteously to you.

 

You huff out a laugh that disturbs your stomach. “Such a gentleman,” you note. “I’m not worthy to be in such a presence, troublemaker that I am.”

 

“Well you’ve certainly brought some excitement into my mundane life,” Steve says, his smile still holding. He’s unfazed by your comment. He wants to see it play out first before he truly believes it.

 

You carefully lift your head then slowly move your body to rest against the corner of the wall and tub. You breathe deeply through your nose to keep the rising nausea down.

 

“Would you like me to get you some more water?” Steve asks.

 

You wave him off to avoid shaking your head. It still takes some breaths before you can speak again. “Did you say ‘mundane’?” you tease. “You don’t have people dropped in your lap every day?” You press the rag around your neck.

 

“My lap would be one thing. Falling out of the sky is another.”

 

You meet his sky-blue eyes. _So much that he wants to know_. “What happened?” you ask him. “I don’t actually have a lot of recollection after a certain point.”

 

Steve’s face grows serious again as he collects his thoughts. “I thought I saw a shooting star,” he starts. “I was driving home and stopped on the road to watch it. I didn’t realize it would crash so close by. I decided to investigate the crater to see what I would find. But nothing was there. I found you after I heard you cry, some paces away from the landing site.

 

“After you passed out, I decided to bring you back to my apartment, at least to keep you safe from any dangers outside. But then I watched some glow inside of you… _heal_ you. All night.” The incredulity is coming out in his voice. He can’t help it. Verbally putting these things forth makes it all the harder to believe it happened. But he saw it all, with his own eyes, it happened before him. And so, he returns to one of his original questions: who or what is this woman?

 

You pull at your face then rub your eyes. “Damn,” you hiss. “Did anybody else see any of it?”

 

He shrugs. “Hard to say. No one was around, doesn’t mean the crash wasn’t seen or felt by others. That would be the only thing, though.”

 

You nod, watching his face. You can see that there’s something he wants to ask. “Go ahead.”

 

Steve mentally prepares himself. “What _are_ you? Human? If so, how did you survive that landing? If not... are you... extraterrestrial?” His mouth feels funny when he says it, but he doesn’t want to sound rude either.

 

You chuckle. “Am I an alien, is what you mean? That’s a gutsy question. I’m a bit surprised you’d be willing to consider that. Granted, you did just see a lot.” A sigh escapes your chest. “Honestly?”

 

“Honesty is the best way to go,” Steve states.

 

You find yourself smiling again as you shake your head. “Alrighty then, here we go. No, I’m not human. I guess I do fit the title of ‘alien,’ although I’d personally would just prefer to be called ‘foreigner’ or ‘outlander’ or ‘stranger.’ Honestly, anything _but_ alien. I have seen things that you would consider ‘aliens,’ and I definitely don’t look like them!

 

“I’m not from earth, although I’ve visited before. I come from a different planet, far from this one. Obviously, I’m humanoid. I look, feel, breathe, and function almost exactly like a human. My genetics allow for earthly anomalies to exist within myself. Therefore, just to name a few, I have a longer lifespan, I can go days without food or drink, and I can heal at a rapid pace without any aid.

 

“Now there’s a crazier, more phenomenal aspect to my being. I have special abilities and power I was born with. I can do strange things. The light you saw was just a small part of that. Probably any aftereffect you saw from my landing was likely a result of my power.”

 

The image of the falling star replays in this mind. The shockwave. The shower of light. The flowers in the crater. You.

 

It’s hard to swallow. Steve does his best to wrap his mind around what he’s hearing. You’ve given him no reason to not believe you, yet he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to react to this. This isn’t normal, nor does it just happen!

 

You watch the struggle occurring behind the blue eyes. He has an intelligent mind, quick to work, and you like that. You hold your hand in the air, palm up, and summon a little drop of light. It looks like you hold a little gold star.

 

The blue eyes drink in the phenomenon.

 

Then the next thing you know, you’re heaving whatever is left inside your stomach into the bathtub. The waves wrack your body, leaving you trembling and coughing.

 

You don’t get sick. Ever. And for you to have fallen into a fever means that you’re pretty messed up right now. You can count on one hand how many times you’ve succumbed to a fever, and what you’ve discovered in those few times is that you do _not_ have natural fevers. The deliriums send you into strange mental realms that most don’t visit. It takes a lot of effort to drag you out of them.

 

Now that you think of it, you’re surprised that a human’s voice pulled you out so easily. _Curious_.

 

You hack, trying to expel whatever is tormenting your stomach. If simply calling a spark of light caused this horrid spell of vomiting then the Bifrost really fucked up your powers. You wonder how long it’ll take to heal from it, and if Tom is in the same boat. Come to think of it, it sounded like your friend is having better luck than you. Which is good, because she hates throwing up.

 

You suddenly dry heave which sends you into a nasty coughing spell. The assault on your body leaves you nearly hyperventilating as panic begins to set in.

 

A hand rests on your back, rubbing it gently. “Star,” he says softly, calming your rapid heart. Steve worries that you might soon start coughing up blood from how violent these surges are.

 

You try taking long breaths to gain some control over your body. It forces the panic down.

 

Steve stands, careful to not bump into you, and refills the cup from the sink tap.

 

Panting over the edge, you glance up at his concerned face as he watches you. He’s twisted your hair back to keep it from falling around your face. “I’m sorry,” you croak. You hate that this is how he must see you. Such a horrible introduction.

 

He hands you the cup of water. “Don’t be.” He doesn’t pity you. He pities little, but he does feel bad for your unfortunate circumstances. He wouldn’t wish this on anyone, least of all someone as small as you.

 

Again, you first rinse out your mouth with the water before drinking the rest. It feels so good running down your throat, easing your stomach.

 

Steve brushes past you gently and rinses the tub again.

 

You feel awful that he’s doing that. “Why do you call me ‘star’?” you ask curiously, while also trying to distract yourself. “Or... ‘stargirl,’ that’s what you first called me after you woke up.”

 

His eyes soften as humor fills them. “Until I discovered you were a person, you were a just shooting star,” he answers.

 

“Fair enough. Did you make a wish?” The superstition is known in other places as well.

 

His eyes take in your curiosity.

 

“Would you tell me even if you had?” you tease.

 

“Likely not.”

 

You chuckle. “I get that. Private matters.” You adjust into a more comfortable sitting position. Your stomach feels significantly better. The notion of sickness is residing, and you’re grateful.

 

Steve joins you on the floor again.

 

“Well, if you did,” you add, “I’m sorry to say that I’m not very good at wish granting. Didn’t come with my skill set.”

 

He laughs, leaving him with his lopsided smile. One thing he did not expect from you is to feel so comfortable in your presence. He may have had a rough start with you but it has quickly dissolved into an easy companionship. He admires that. He’s known too many strong characters to be set for the rest of his days.

 

A thought runs through his mind. “Why haven’t you asked for my name?” he inquires.

 

A wry smile takes your lips along with a sigh. “Because I know that if I ask and you give it to me, you’ll ask for mine in return.”

 

“You don’t want me to know your name?”

 

“I don’t want to get you more involved than is safe.”

 

He searches your serious gaze. “Are you a fugitive?”

 

You shake your head. “No. But I’m a lot of things you’d rather not believe I am.” _Thief. Assassin. Deserter_. “Trouble being a big one. It follows me wherever I go. It’s already made me a horrible houseguest to you. I don’t want it to do more.” He’s been too kind to you to know that you shouldn’t plague him with whatever you’re bringing with you.

 

Steve weighs your words. He knows adversaries, he’s seen enemies, and he knows exactly what trouble is. You don’t match any of those things. He makes up his mind. “What’s your name?” he asks, wholly serious.

 

You hold his sky-blue gaze for a long time. Finally, you give him your proper name, first and last. He deserves it.

 

He repeats it, rolling it over in his mouth, grasping the idea of it. “It’s very unique,” he comments.

 

You give a small smile. “That it is. Now, what is _your_ name?” you ask.

 

He thinks through the introduction he wants to give. “I’m Captain Steven Grant Rogers,” he gives.

 

Your eyebrows rise. _That’s quite the name!_

 

“But please call me Steve.”

 

“Steve,” you repeat aloud. _Captain Steven Grant Rogers_. A smile crawls onto your face. “Sounds like you have a story to tell, too.”

 

“You should ask about it.”

 

Laughing, you nod. “I will. But first, could I have something to eat?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't you just love his name and title? *w*
> 
> Thoughts?


	7. Kindred Spirits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Midnight snack convos lol

“What?”

 

You laugh at Steve’s face, not surprised in the least at the reaction.

 

“You just upended your stomach... and now you want food?” he clarifies, a blond eyebrow arched.

 

“Correct, sir,” you answer with a chuckle. Using the tub siding, you push yourself onto your feet.

 

Steve rises quickly, and it’s a good thing he does.

 

Just as you stand straight, your head spins, and your knees buckle.

 

Steve catches your waist and lifts you back onto your feet.

 

You rest an arm against the wall to wait out the lightheadedness. “I’m alright,” you assure him. You wave Steve off and gain your balance.

 

He doesn’t believe you. His keen eyes watch that you don’t fall again.

 

You’re realizing just how exhausted you still are. It’s been a long two days. “I’m quite spent from the healing process,” you explain. “It uses up a lot of energy, and I’m currently recovering from something screwing me up. Food is probably the best thing for me. I promise my stomach is settled.”

 

Steve sets his hands on his hips, giving you a huff.

 

For the first time, you’re able to properly take in his tall stature. He’s essentially a foot taller than you and about twice as broad, granted you’re rather small. The casual wear of jeans and T-shirt mixed with his protective, almost mother-hen look you’re receiving amuses you highly.

 

He must’ve read the humor in your eyes because his face relaxes, softening his resolve. “Well then, feel like going out to eat?” he proposes.

 

“In the middle of the night?” you ask, surprised.

 

He holds up his hands. “It’s New York. The City That Never Sleeps.”

 

You chuckle. “Right. Yeah, sure that sounds great.” Upon exiting the bathroom, your eyes find the pullover you borrowed, and then you remember your leathers, your undershirt, and your tiny pack. “Oh, wait, I’m sorry. I have no money.” _Among **other** things I don’t have, like average, human clothes_. Your arm absently crosses your chest as you approach your things. You let your hair cover your shoulders.

 

“Don’t worry about that,” he states easily, heading for the closet.

 

“Steve.”

 

He meets your gaze. “I mean it.”

 

You sigh. You’re not going to win, and you know it. This man has a resolve that rivals your stubbornness. “Very well.” You pick up the chest piece of your outfit. “Better get these damn leathers back on,” you mutter to yourself. The strings are the most frustrating part of the whole thing.

 

“Why don’t you just use the pullover?” Steve suggests after pulling his shoes on. He’s mentally trying to figure out how the thing even goes on. Taking it off was hard enough and that’s usually the easier process.

 

“Really?” you ask glancing over.

 

He dawns his brown, leather jacket. It frames his strong back nicely. Then he puts on a baseball cap which sat on top of the dresser. “Yes. It’s still cold out at night,” he says as he eyes the chest piece. “I doubt that’ll keep you very warm. I don’t know how you breathe in it either.”

 

Your head bobs from side to side acknowledging the truth of his statement. “It is very reminiscent of a corset but it’s armor, a chest piece. It needs to be tight.”

 

Steve pauses to eye you curiously. _Where did you come from that you needed to wear armor?_

 

You don’t answer his apparent question. “But if you really don’t mind, I’d prefer the hoodie.”

 

With a nod, he says, “Go ahead.” Then he walks out of the room.

 

 _He really is too kind_. You set down the piece and grab your sling bag. Your eyes dart to the other room where you can hear Steve bustling about. Moving swiftly, you take out your journal and open it up. You find Tom’s last message.

 

 _Alright. Get me a city name or something when you can_.

 

You scribble down your response. _Manhattan, New York. Where are you?_

 

After closing the journal and putting it back in the bag, you strap the pack on and slip the hoodie over your head. It fits you like a wide dress coming down to your thighs. You have to push the sleeves back to your elbows in order to put your boots on.

 

Steve calls your name. Keys jingle in the distance.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Are you afraid of riding on a motorcycle?”

 

“Not at all!” you call back, a grin slowly growing.

 

“Great. Whenever you’re ready then.”

 

~*~

 

The ride to the diner was both refreshing and thrilling. It’d been a long time since you’d ridden on a motorbike but both Tom and Layne were huge fans of them. The chilly wind on your face helped clear a lot of the fatigue and fogginess of your mind. And while you wanted to look up at the night sky, you became entranced by the nightlife of the city. Lights everywhere, full of tall complexes and such. With so much noise everywhere, you’re not surprised it’s known as the city that never sleeps.

 

Upon reaching a small diner, Steve brings the motorcycle to a stop and helps you off.

 

You rub your arms to warm yourself. It makes you grateful for the hoodie’s long sleeves. It keeps your hands protected from the frigid air. You follow Steve inside the warm building and take your seats in a booth.

 

The place is decorated in vinyl and chrome. Neon signs hang above the wide windows. A jukebox plays music softly in the background. It feels like entering a different time.

 

All of it makes you smile. “Do you eat here often?” you ask your companion.

 

“I visit whenever I go out,” he answers.

 

A waitress appears at our table. Her eyes immediately drink Steve in before a charming smile takes her lips. She plays with a stray lock of blonde hair. “What can I get you to drink?” she asks him.

 

Steve glances at you and nods for you to go first.

 

The waitress barely glances at you.

 

“Umm, could I have some water, please?” you ask her.

 

“Sure.” She scribbles something on her pad before gazing down at Steve again.

 

 _By the gods, woman_ , you think, barely managing to not roll your eyes.

 

“Coffee, please,” Steve adds.

 

“Would you like some sugar with that?” the waitress practically purrs as she sets down a pair of menus before you.

 

He shakes his head. “No, thank you.”

 

“You sure? Maybe some honey instead?” Honey is practically dripping from her own lips.

 

You set your chin in your palm to better hide your features with the cuff of the sleeve.

 

“No, black is fine, thank you.” He wears his courteous smile, blue eyes watching the waitress but not seeing what she’s doing.

 

You cover up your scoffing laugh with a vague cough. _So proper. Very much the gentleman_.

 

For a second, her brown eyes cut to you.

 

You simply watch her, innocently. _He is way too good for you, lady_.

 

“Alright. Let me know if you need anything else. Your drinks will be out soon.” She leaves the table with a final smile at Steve, blonde ponytail bouncing.

 

You finally roll your eyes when her back is to you before glancing down at the menu.

 

“What?” Steve asks.

 

You look up at him. “What, what?” you counter, confused.

 

“What did you roll your eyes at?”

 

“Ah. Umm... nothing. It’s silly.”

 

“Star,” he says, a warning in his voice.

 

The tilt of your head alerts Steve to what he called you.

 

He eases. “Sorry. Habit.”

 

You shrug, smiling. “It’s fine. I don’t mind. Call me that if you want. Has a fun ring to it. But do you honestly want to know what I rolled my eyes at?”

 

“I do.”

 

You blow air out your mouth. “I was reacting to the waitress’ overbearing attempts at flirting with you,” you explain.

 

Steve’s brows come together in confusion. “She was flirting?”

 

“Oh, _so_ hard! If you hadn’t insisted on my going first I’m sure she would’ve forgotten I existed.”

 

“What, no!” He combats with a skeptical look on his face.

 

“You think I’m kidding but I’m not.” You glance through the menu, your mind searching through your vocabulary to search for the concepts of Earth to better comprehend what you’re reading.

 

A moment passes before Steve again asks, “She was really flirting with me?”

 

You hang your head and laugh. You glance over the menu at his puzzled blue eyes. “Yes, Steve, she was,” you answer. “And will continue to do so, just watch.”

 

He looks worried and uncomfortable at the thought.

 

“Surely this isn’t new to you.”

 

A blond brow rises. Steve thinks back to the final comments you slurred out before passing out from the fever. He’s not sure if you’re aware of the fact that you complimented his looks. He also wonders if you meant it, or if it was just a delirious muttering.

 

“Have you ever dated?” you inquire, cutting through his thoughts.

 

He shakes his head. “No.”

 

You actually stare at him. “Wait... _ever_?”

 

“Never.”

 

You try puzzling that through. That’s not what you expected to hear at all. _How has he **not** dated?_

 

Steve chuckles at your face now. “It comes with an explanation, but you won’t believe it,” He says.

 

“Try me. I’m still the one that fell from the sky, remember?” you challenge.

 

His lopsided smile appears.

  
“Tell me your story.”

 

Unfortunately, the waitress returns at that moment. She sets your water down before you, with hardly a glance. Then she gently sets down Steve’s coffee, her smile coy. “One black coffee,” she pipes.

 

You do everything in your power to not mock her.

 

“‘Preciate it,” he replies.

 

“Are you ready to order?”

 

Steve glances over at you.

 

“Why don’t you just pick something out for me,” you answer quickly. As amused as you are currently, you don’t want to suffer through the ordeal of awkwardly ordering food.

 

He nods and quickly roves over the menu. His eyes catch something, and he gives the order.

 

The blonde waitress hangs on his every word, relishing everything she can.

 

Knowing she’s completely forgotten about you, you delicately reach over and pluck a straw from her little, black apron. You even give it a little twirl as you pull back.

 

Steve’s eyes catch you but the waitress is clueless.

 

“Will that be all?” she tries again.

 

“Yes, thank you,” Steve says.

 

“Great. Should be out soon. Call if you need anything.”

 

You’re tempted to just call her back for the most menial thing, simply to annoy her, but you know that the moment she reaches your table she’ll be lost to Steve again. And you’re pretty sure you’ll be sick again just from watching her interactions with him, so you decide against it. You pluck the straw into the glass of water and down half of it in one go.

 

“Pick pockets much?” Steve asks.

 

Your head bobs to the side. “Depends on necessity,” you answer nonchalantly. “So, what is your story, _Captain_?” A smirk sits on your lips.

 

He nods. “Alright. Do you know what year it is?” he starts.

 

“Not a clue,” you admit.

 

 _At least I’m not the only one_ , Steve thinks before continuing. “It’s 2011 AD.”

 

You assume the AD is a way of marking the year on a timeline, but the letters don’t really mean much to you, nor do you know how to categorize them. Yet you nod and stash the date away.

 

“I was born in 1918.”

 

“Whoa! What!” Your eyes scan over his young face. The timeline may not be important but you know how to do math. He’s surely no older than you are, roughly speaking if you use human years to judge your age.

 

Steve nods. “I was born in Brooklyn, New York, just across the way. My parents were Irish immigrants. I was 23 and in college with my childhood friend, Bucky, when America entered World War II. Both Bucky and I were eager to enlist but, due to my health conditions, I didn’t get in.”

 

Your brows furrow. “You’re in mint condition,” you state bluntly.

 

He smiles. “But I wasn’t at first, or ever, really. I was a very sickly kid, scrawny. Growing up I was every bully’s favorite target.”

 

“Didn’t you ever run away?”

 

He laughs, head hanging slightly. It lets you know this isn’t a new thing. “Not at all,” he admits.

 

“Of course not,” you comment with a chuckle. “Did Steve Rogers try to save the day?”

 

He looks up at you through his lashes, half smile showing.

 

You can’t help your amused smile. “Little guy trying to be the hero. So, what happened that brought about, I assume, great change in your life?”

 

“The war came, and Bucky went with it,” Steve continues. “I was still the scrawny guy that never knew how to back out of a fight. I was doing everything to get enlisted, to the point of lying on the sign ups to get in.”

 

Your eyebrows jump. “You believed in fighting just that much?” you ask.

 

“Here we are!” The waitress coos. She sets down plates, makes sure everything is accounted for.

 

You don’t even pay attention to her. The aroma of the food has sent your stomach into a gurgling frenzy. You’re starving!

 

Steve laughs. “Dig in,” he tells you, hearing the roars coming from your stomach.

 

Doing your best to remember to have some manners, you quickly start eating. Part of your mind keeps trying to remind you to not eat too fast, but the other part just wants the food.

 

“You weren’t kidding about wanting food,” Steve teases. He dives into his own dish, though with far more dignity.

 

Face red, you chew up your food and swallow quickly. “I promise I’m not normally like this,” you insist. “Anyway, what got you in?”

 

“Of all things, a German doctor and scientist,” Steve gives with a forlorn look in his eyes. “He saw something in me and got me enlisted with the idea of using me for a special project. I was to be a part of a group of what would be known as ‘Super Soldiers’ to fight in the war.”

 

You listen carefully, finding the story strangely intriguing. But something about it sits funny in the pit of your stomach. “What was the process?”

 

“A serum injection,” Steve states.

 

There it is; that’s what’s not sitting well with you. “You _volunteered_ to be experimented on?” you ask to clarify.

 

He can tell from the tone in your voice that you don’t like the idea. “I did.”

 

You chew your food as you mull over that information. “Okay, so what did the serum do?”

 

Steve takes some bites of his own food. “Honestly?” he checks. He wants to make sure you really want to hear this.

 

“Of course,” you respond, smiling again. This is quickly becoming an inside joke between you two.

 

With his hands, he motions to himself. “It made me like this,” he states plainly.

 

His words slowly process in your mind. “Oh!” The implications dawn on you as your eyes race over his physique. “It was a special boost. It modified your genetics, didn’t it?” you ask. It still makes you uncomfortable, but you know it can be worse.

 

Steve nods. “It made me taller, stronger, faster. The doctor said that it would amplify everything, including personality. ‘Good becomes great’ he said.”

 

Even though he willingly gave himself to experimentation, something about hearing that last quote warms your heart. You’ve been a firsthand witness of that result. This man has put you above his own safety and wellbeing. Even when you’ve met kind people, none have quite reached this level of… excellence and selflessness. You are literally indebted to this captain, and you have no idea how you’re going to repay him enough to justify his work and effort.

 

Steve watches you in concern as you drift through your thoughts and only seem to fall within them. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

 

You rub your face. Your quickly reminded of the exhaustion pulling at you as you shake your head. “Steve, I literally don’t deserve to be in your presence. I’ve gone through too much shit to be sitting before you. And have done even worse,” you tell him. Finally meeting his eyes again, you say, “You really shouldn’t be wasting your time with me.”

 

Steve watches ages of trouble and turmoil wear on your face. Your eyes hold an ocean’s depth of stories and trials. He knows he can’t guess what you’ve gone through, and he doubts he’ll get to hear even a hundredth of it but no one should bring themselves down because of it. He knows that feeling all too well. He won’t let you do it to yourself.

 

He uses your name to grab your attention. “Let me make that judgment call for myself,” he tells you. “I know what it’s like. Don’t count yourself out yet, there’s no reason to.”

 

Tears sting your eyes, surprising you. Bowing your head, you blink them back and swallow the knot of emotion in your throat. Life has been hard on you. You lost a longtime lover, and your best friend has someone of her own. Not that you doubt her loyalties or love, but you miss having people. And not everyone is kind; actually, most aren’t. Your travels have exposed you to almost every kind of being.

 

You’ve always held a positive view of people, unlike Tom, but as of late it’s been hard. Now suddenly you’ve been gifted with this man’s overwhelmingly caring presence, and you don’t know what to do. Your emotions are in a frenzy trying to keep up with everything, on top of being exhausted and once more being separated from your friend.

 

“Star,” Steve calls gently.

 

You suck in a breath, yanking yourself out of your mind. “Sorry,” you breathe out. “Sorry.” You’re trying to avoid the blue eyes of concern by busying yourself with the food leftover. “Umm… so what happened after the serum worked?” you stammer out. “You said there was supposed to be more of you.”

 

Steve takes his cue and moves forward for your sake with a nod. “The enemy made an attack, killing the doctor. The spy tried stealing the rest of the serum but I caught him. In the process, the casing broke, and the leftover serum was irretrievable. I ended up being the only Super Soldier, much to the colonel’s disappointment. Then instead of doing anything with me and my new abilities and strength, I was sold to the circus.” He takes some bites of his food, thinking through the events.

 

You give him a confused look. “How?”

 

“Colonel didn’t want me so I was taken by the politicians and put on display on a promo tour that would get people to buy stocks and bonds to help out in the war. I was dressed up, given some lines, and became ‘Captain America.’” The man before you gives a dazzling smile, chin high, hands on hips.

 

You giggle quietly at the sight.

 

Steve returns to his relaxed posture and pulls out his wallet. He hands you an old, worn out card.

 

You look it over and find none other than Steve in a blue suit and helmet, decorated in red and white holding a round shield to match. On the back was a little blurb about the great American hero. “Huh! Interesting way of dolling someone up. Very patriotic,” you comment. “I would’ve hated that.”

 

“Oh, I did,” Steve laments.

 

“So, you were put on display and paraded around like a peacock with nothing to do with your new gifts.”

 

Steve nods taking back the card and putting it away. “Eventually I made it out to the troops. It was there I found out that Bucky’s unit was captured over enemy lines. With the help of Peggy and Howard, I got myself over there, outfit and all. I’d taken to it, along with the title.”

 

“I can understand that. And a woman helped you?” you ask. “Interesting!”

 

A slight blush appears on his cheeks. The look in Steve’s eyes reveal more than he may want it to. “Yeah. Agent Peggy Carter, British intelligence. She worked with the colonel,” he explains.

 

“And you liked her.”

 

It takes him a moment before he admits it with a nod.

 

You nod with him. “Your face gives you away. Not that that’s a terrible thing, just letting you know.”

 

He gives you a bow of his head.

 

 “Anyway, did you find Bucky?” you prompt, finishing up the last of your meal.

 

“Yes,” he says, picking right back up. “Saved him and most of the unit. Led them back after losing all forms of communication to Peggy or Howard. I guess you could say that became my initiation as a captain, someone calling the shots. Bucky forever instilled the title among the troops.”

 

You smile. “That’s pretty great!”

 

He agrees. “The next few years I dedicated to taking out enemy troops with Bucky and some other friends at my side. Howard upgraded my suit, and the shield is made of a very special material, incredibly rare.” His face drops slowly. “I lost Bucky on a mission, fell to his death.” He shakes his head, eyes downcast. “I couldn’t reach him in time.”

 

And then you see it, a look you know all too well from your own experience and those around you: survivor’s guilt. _He lost his best friend_. You’ve been grateful to the fates that hasn’t happened to you but there’s understanding in knowing what that hole would feel like. “Doesn’t sound like it was your fault,” you tell him gently. “I believe that you did the best you could. There’s no way you would do any less. Unfortunately, it’s not always enough.”

 

Steve meets your kind gaze. He sees the aging again in your eyes. He knows you’ve lived it too.

 

“Did anything ever come about with you and Peggy?” you ask curiously.

 

He gives a dry laugh. “I guess you could say not. I’ll be honest, I fell in love with her. But we were constantly apart, and she was holding a grudge over something stupid that I allowed to happen.” He rubs the back of his head, cheeks red with embarrassment. “Lady made some unwanted advances, and I didn’t know how to stop her. Peggy saw.”

 

You cringe on his behalf. “Sorry, dude.”

 

He shrugs with a weighted sigh. “I never really got to fix it nor apologize properly. And things moved quickly after that. Got to the enemy base, infiltrated it, and soon discovered that all of America was going to be bombed. I was on a plane when I took Schmidt out. But the only way to finish the mission properly was to take out the plane and send it into the ocean. I had Peggy on the line up till the last moment.”

 

His mind takes him back to that moment in the plane. He watched the water rise to meet him. He could hear Peggy’s voice. He gazed down on her picture. And then everything was gone.

 

You note how Steve interlaces his hands tightly, making his knuckles go pale. Even from where you sit you can feel his body tense at the memories he’s reliving.

 

“The next thing I know, I wake up in a bad simulation of my time only to discover the freezing ocean I fell into froze me, preserving my body… for 66 years.” His blue eyes meet your wide ones. “I only just rejoined the world about two months ago.”

 

You cover your gaping mouth with your sleeved hand. “Holy shit,” you mutter softly. _He lost **everything**_.

 

Steve takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out through his nose. “I shouldn’t have made it. I shouldn’t be here. It’s not fair.”

 

This time you give a dark laugh. “Neither should I.” You watch the cars whirring by outside, hugging yourself.

 

“What did you survive?” Steve asks. He sounds tired.

 

Glancing over at him, you answer, “Genocide.”

 

 **You should be gone. You should’ve been wiped out with the rest of them**.

 

You shake your head to clear it.

 

He nods slowly. “Yet as fates would have it, here we are.”

 

“Here we are.”

 

Steve looks over the empty dishes. “Ready to head back?”

 

You nod, somehow missing the comfort of the little apartment you’ve hardly been in.

 

~*~

 

Once back in the apartment, it takes begging on your end to convince Steve to not forfeit his bed to you. You don’t think you can stand the thought of taking that luxury away from him after everything. You’re beyond grateful when he concedes and disappears behind the door.

 

In the silence of the room with only the goings on of the street below as background noise, you fall on the couch. The lumpy pack beneath your back reminds you that you have a message to check. Groaning and dragging your body back into a sitting position, you fiddle inside the hoodie to pull out your pack. You get the journal out and search the page.

 

 _Puente Antiguo, New Mexico. Thank God you’re okay. There are things here that aren’t supposed to be here. I killed this creature with yellow eyes, and there’s at least three more. I don’t know what they are_.

 

 _Be careful. I can’t come get you yet. Something’s stopping me from warping. The government has Thor. I’ll let you know when I get him back_.

 

It takes a long time staring at the page for things to process as they should. You only partially blame it on the sloppier than normal scrawl Tom wrote in. “How the fuck did you end up in New Mexico, and I in New York!” you hiss through your teeth. “Shit.” You hardly remember anything about the physical country of America, but you know those aren’t remotely close to one another.

 

You rub your eyes. Things are worse off than you anticipated. Tom and Thor are in trouble. You can’t use your power. And somewhere you’re aware of the dreadful fact that you don’t want to say goodbye to the stranger in the next room. _Agh!_ You have to force your mind to calm itself in order to think through a response.

 

 _That sounds kind of frightening, and not normal. They don’t sound native to the place. Please be careful, and save Thor’s ass_.

 

 _I can’t jump either. My powers are momentarily on pause as I recover from the damn effects the Bifrost had on me. But I’m safe. You don’t need to worry about me, and don’t use up energy trying to come get me. We’ll figure things out as we go_.

 

 _Keep me updated_.

 

You close the journal and put your things back into the bag.

 

“It’s about time you answered.”

 

Your body reacts before your mind or eyes do, jabbing the man’s ribs. Only to find nothing physically there. Yet you can see him.

 

In the same second, you sense it: magic.

 

You yank your hand back, gasping. You look up and see the familiar face.

 

Loki.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you expect the Emerald Prince to visit you, too? ;)
> 
> *Btw to anyone who happens to be rereading this, I edited the year because I realized I was ahead by one lol
> 
> Anyway, continue! ^_^


	8. A Quaint Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Emerald Prince = sassy Reader
> 
> xD

“What _the fucking hell_ are you doing here?” you hiss at the illusion before you.

 

“Visiting,” the Emerald Prince answers, “ _obviously_.”

 

“How did you even find me?”

 

“I administered my own magic to your black books in order to better keep track of you, knowing how common it is for you and the warrior to get separated.”

 

“You _tampered_ with our journals?” Anger is rising quickly.

 

“I modified them, for everyone’s good,” he says evenly.

 

You seethe for a moment, trying to regather yourself. “Fine. Whatever. Don’t touch my stuff ever again,” you say. “What’s your purpose for being here then?”

 

“Did you think you could actually injure me?”

 

“Oh, please, I would’ve broken your ribs. Don’t as so indestructible.”

 

Loki rolls his emerald eyes to the ceiling. “I was warned of your temper,” he says.

 

Your eyes narrow. “Look here, dude, I’m exhausted. I’ve gone through enough shit today. I want to go to bed, and yet here you fucking are. So again, I repeat, what the hell are you doing here?”

 

He lets out a frustrated huff through his nose and finally just settles on telling you. “You must warn Thomasin to leave town and leave my boorish brother to his own devices.”

 

You raise an eyebrow. “Why?”

 

“Because the situation is dangerous, and she needs to get away.”

 

“Why don’t you just tell her?”

 

The prince grinds his teeth together before spitting out, “She trusts your word.”

 

A smirk creeps onto your lips. “You’ve already tried, haven’t you?” you jab. “And she didn’t listen. I can’t imagine why.” Sarcasm drips from every word.

 

“Won’t you help me in this? Don’t you want your friend out of harm’s way?” Loki snaps.

 

Your eyebrows rise high. “Are you asking _me_ for help? Since when do you…. Ohhh, Loki,” you coo, “you two aren’t getting along right now, are you?”

 

The green glare says it all.

 

 _Your girlfriend disses you, and what do you do, come whine to me. Fantastic_. You shake your head and take your seat on the couch. “It won’t make any difference if I tell her to get away,” you tell him. “She won’t leave Thor, nor should she.” You give him a pointed look.

 

Loki’s mouth twists, displeased with your answer. He takes in a deep breath and slowly lets it out.

 

Your eyes scan over the illusion. “You don’t look any less exhausted than the rest of us. What have you been up to? Are you still in Asgard?”

 

“Yes. My brother’s banishment has brought about some unexpected problems that I’ve had to deal with. I’ve also been denied passage down to Midgard.”

 

You grimace for the Emerald Prince, genuinely feeling bad. “Do you know anything about the creatures that attacked Tom and Thor?” you inquire.

 

Loki shakes his head. “I’ve not seen their like before,” he answers.

 

“What do they look like?”

 

With a flicker of his illusion, he summons a smaller image of the said creatures.

 

Even in the dark room you can clearly see their near-glowing yellow eyes and black, massive bodies. There’s something unnerving about them. They could almost pass for creatures from your home planet. And that thought truly disturbs you. You dispel the illusion with a brush of your hand.

 

“And what do you know about Tom’s warping problem?” you press.

 

“I had hoped to ask you the same,” Loki states.

 

You shrug. “I don’t know what it is. If it affected me as well then it would be possible for me to trace the origins. It’s not like the Ordinat poison, which affects all powers and abilities, not just one. And most powers that I’ve run into can’t just disable one ability alone without affecting the others somehow. Honestly, it sounds like some kind of magical tampering.”

 

The prince’s brows quirk. “What do you mean?”

 

“I’ve seen other magic users do something similar. But it would require a lot of work, and maybe even some darker elements added in.” You shrug again. “I’m not sure.”

 

Loki pulls at his angular face. “I’ll have my guild investigate that branch of possibilities.”

 

“Go home, Loki, go to sleep. You need it just as much as the rest of us.”

 

“Is that sympathy I hear, healer?” he probes.

 

You roll your eyes. “Forgive me for being normal and using my emotions,” you retort.

 

“Spare me, woman. I have no need of such things from you.”

 

You smirk, catching his slip. “Fine. Whatever. If you don’t want me to waste energy on you, trust me, I won’t. Now get out.”

 

Loki scoffs and looks like he’s about to head out, when something catches his eye. He looks you up and down. “What ridiculous garb are you wearing?” he asks, an eyebrow quirked.

 

You glance down at the large hoodie you’re still wearing. “It’s a large sweater, if you know what that is,” you quip.

 

“How did you acquire it?”

 

“My host let me use it. Believe it or not, the leathers are not the most comfortable thing to wear.”

 

“The warrior never had a problem with them.”

 

“Says the one who’s spent a great deal of time taking them off her.”

 

Loki’s emerald eyes cut to your smirking face. “And who is the _unfortunate_ soul that burdened themselves by taking _you_ in?” he sneers.

 

“No one of consequence,” you lie. “Just a random bystander that happened to see me land. They were gracious enough to not leave me broken on the ground.”

 

The prince’s eyes glance over to the bedroom door. His ears caught the lie. “You’re losing your edge, healer. Who are you hiding from me?”

 

And before you can stand back up, Loki has disappeared through the door. _Shit! Damn it! Loki, get back here_ , you mentally scream at the door. Yet all you can do is wait for him to come back.

 

Inside the bedroom, Loki’s eyes rove over the fair captain sleeping quite soundly in his bed. Loki convinces himself that the man is no one to blink at by Asgardian standards, although he might understand the appeal here on Midgard.

 

Your nerves scream their way around your body. What’s probably only a few seconds feels like an endless drag before you see the apparition reappear before you.

 

The sly look in Loki’s emerald eyes leaves you glowering at him. “Does the warrior know that such a dashing man _kindly_ hosts you?” he twists.

 

“She knows that I’m safe, and that’s all the details she needs to worry about right now,” you answer fiercely, trying to staunch the flush in your cheeks.

 

“Mmhmm,” the Emerald Prince mutters, wicked humor glinting in his eyes.

 

“Fuck you, Loki.”

 

“As you so eloquently pointed out earlier, healer, that’s not your job,” Loki teases with a laugh. His apparition begins to fade. “I do hope you’re not too disappointed.”

 

Quiet reigns in the small living room of the apartment.

 

Muttering angrily under your breath, you pull off your boots and set them next to the couch. You crawl onto the couch and curl up. You rest your head on your pack, making for a lumpy pillow, and pull your knees up, inside of the hoodie. You probably would’ve ruminated over everything that’s happened but your exhaustion drags you into a dreamless sleep within minutes.

 

~*~

 

Steve sleeps later into the next morning than he normally does. When he glances at his bedside clock, the time marks that it’s nearly ten. He sits up in bed, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Memories slowly stream in from yesterday’s events. His blue eyes search his room to see if there’s proof that any of it really happened, or if he dreamed it all.

 

But the cushions from the couch are missing from the corner of his bedroom. In their place sits your leather chest piece.

 

Steve glances at his bedroom door. He wonders if you’re still out there, or if you’ve disappeared. For some reason, he doesn’t put it past you to just up and run. He rises and gives his body a long stretch. Stepping into the bathroom, he decides to take a quick shower. As he washes, it runs through his mind that he only bought enough groceries on Sunday for one, not for two, and already it is Thursday. He gets out and dries, dresses, and carefully steps out into the living room.

 

You are sound asleep on the couch. Your small body is curled up into a tiny ball against the back rest of the couch. You have no pillow and no blankets, yet you’re snuggled inside the sweater and sleeping on your small bag. Your face rests peacefully, and you breathe evenly.

 

Steve goes back in his room and rummages around for a spare blanket in the closet. He snatches his spare pillow on the way back. Carefully, he slides the pillow under your head then covers you properly with the blanket. Once satisfied, Steve grabs one of his notebooks and quickly writes down a note for you, leaving it on the coffee table. He grabs his keys as quietly as he can manage and exits the apartment.

 

~*~

 

Carla spent most of her day yesterday retrieving the necessary evidence from the landing site, then the rest of it in the labs. Sadly, there’s hardly anything to show for it.

 

The scientists she’s been working alongside of can’t make out what’s so different about your DNA. It has all the human aspects of it that they’re used to, but that’s nothing compared to everything else it holds. The strand models that of a human’s, a twisted ladder holding key information, but it’s no two-step ladder.

 

The intricacies of the strand baffle the scientists, they’ve never seen anything like it. And no matter what they do to it, the strand is resilient and resistant. If poked or prodded, the strand bends with it, never breaking.

 

Your blood was immediately divvied out and put under all sorts of machinations. It produces some of the most intriguing results. It has some of the fastest cell reproduction rate they’ve seen. Essentially, it heals and fortifies itself abnormally quickly. It’s resilient, too.

 

While all of this is fascinating to the scientists, Carla’s concern lies on the results it’s _not_ giving. The DNA doesn’t match anyone’s in the country’s. She’s decided to expand the search, in hopes that it’ll match someone from the neighboring countries. If it doesn’t, she’ll have to push it further. But already she’s worried that a result won’t come up.

 

She doesn’t understand that. How can she have DNA and yet not have it belong to a single soul on this earth? She carefully rubs her eyes to not smudge her mascara. She decides she needs coffee, and goes off to track some down.

 

~*~

 

It’s the smell of food that wakes you up. After significant effort, you manage to crack open your eyes.

 

Sunlight streams in from the kitchen and dining room windows, all of which are cracked open. They let in the sounds of the frenzy street down below along with a cool, spring breeze to air out the conjoined rooms.

 

It takes you a moment to catch it but there’s music playing. It flows out from the kitchen. It sounds a lot like listening to an old radio.

 

You sit up, still amidst the clutches of sleep.

 

Steve catches the movement out of the corner of his eye. Glancing over, he takes in your bedhead and yawning mouth. The sight brings a smile to his face. Even though the circumstances are nothing near normal, it’s nice to have someone around to greet, even cook for.

 

“Good afternoon,” he calls, finishing up at the stove.

 

It takes you a moment for your eyes to find him. Upon spotting him in the kitchen area, you finally understand that he’s cooking some kind of meal. He’s in jeans and a light-blue T-shirt, barefoot. The wind brushes through his blond hair. You see the record player from which the music comes from. You cover your mouth as you yawn again.

 

Steve chuckles, spooning food onto two separate dishes. “Did you sleep well?”

 

You nod vaguely. You rub your eyes and, in the process, notice the blanket on your legs. You’re surprised to find the pillow as well. _When did he give me these?_

 

“Are you sure you’re awake?” Steve teases as he sets his dining table.

 

You shake your head.

 

He laughs. “Feel free to use the bathroom.”

 

You slide out from under the blanket and slowly stand up. You make your way into his bedroom to reach the bathroom. There you splash your face with cold water. The chill wakes you and gives you back some life. You take care of yourself and do your best to stop looking so much like a zombie.

 

You join Steve in his dining room area. “What’s for lunch?” you ask around a stray yawn.

 

“Breakfast,” Steve answers.

 

You stare at him, completely puzzled.

 

He chuckles. “It looked like you’d be waking up for lunch, so I made us breakfast for lunch.”

 

Understanding finally dawns on your still sleepy mind. Your eyes scan over the table and spot two dishes with omelets on them, another that holds bacon and sausage, a bowl of fruit, and juice to complete the meal. “This looks and smells wonderful, Steve,” you compliment.

 

“Thank you. Sit, eat.”

 

You comply and take a seat.

 

Steve sits across from you.

 

You both dig into the delicious food. Everyone eats silently as the music plays in the background and the breeze blows about.

 

The little scene is enchanting to you. As your mind slowly wakes up and takes it all in, you treasure this little quaint moment of life. The aroma of the homemade food fills your lungs, and the noises play in your ears. You savor the food before you in a way that you could not do last night. “This is really nice, Steve,” you tell him with a smile.

 

He acknowledges the compliment with his lopsided smile. “I figured after the rough day yesterday, you could use some leisure,” he says.

 

“How thoughtful of you. It’s definitely appreciated, and greatly needed.”

 

Steve’s eyes light up.

 

After a few more minutes of eating quietly you ask if he has any plans for the day. You don’t want to get in the way of them.

 

He shakes his head. “Just stay in. I’ve nothing else going on,” he replies.

 

“Okay. Do you have any hobbies you like to do here at home?”

 

“I’ve recently picked art back up. I used to draw.”

 

“That’s awesome! Are you good at it?”

 

The touch of red at his cheeks tells you that he doesn’t want to answer.

 

Chuckling, you answer for him. “So, yes. Well, that’s great. I don’t have artistic talent. My friend does. But I do love to read and write.”

 

“I have a small selection of books you can browse through, if you’re interested,” Steve adds.

 

“I’d like that,” you say with a smile.

 

~*~

 

You sit cross-legged next to Steve on the couch with a book in hand.

 

He’s been working diligently most of the afternoon in his sketchbook.

 

The television is playing quietly in the background.

 

“Do you like mythology?” you ask Steve, glancing up from the book.

 

He looks up from his work to think on that. “I’m not sure. Every once in a while, my mom would tell me stories of the fairies.”

 

“That’s still within the same realm of things.”

 

He lifts a shoulder. “Some stories are helpful, though most are just simply to incredulous to do anything with them. I agree that there’s a lot to learn from the lessons.”

 

“Do you believe in any of them?”

 

Steve turns his blue eyes on you then. “I’m starting to wonder if I should,” he states.

 

You chuckle.

 

“Is there anything you don’t believe in?” he asks you.

 

“Uhh… I would say that very little surprises me nowadays,” you answer.

 

He nods and returns to his sketch, lost in thought.

 

You go back to the book, and both fall into the comfortable silence again.

 

The channel on the television brings up a special news report.

 

You glance up to take in a tall brunette in too tight of a shirt and skirt having an interview with a dark-haired dude, matching goatee and all, wearing a spiffy suit. You try guessing what they’re talking about from the setting and look of the conversation.

 

The guy in the suit wears sunglasses and doesn’t seem to act like what you’d imagine a business man to conduct himself. He’s entirely too free with himself, and you can easily read that he’s flirting with the lady. Not that she seems to care. She’s basking in it. They keep panning to some kind of building in the background. There’s photographers everywhere.

 

Steve catches you watching the television and zones in on its contents. Immediately his lips press into a thin line. “Stark,” he mutters.

 

You glance at him. “You know that guy?” you ask, surprised.

 

“No, but I know of him. Actually, I knew his father, Howard.”

 

“The guy that upgraded your suit and gave you your shield?” you recall.

 

He nods. “He was only a few years older than me when I knew him. This is Anthony, his son. He goes by Tony and inherited everything. They share the brains and innovation, but it feels like that’s where their similarities end.”

 

You note the disapproval in his voice and body language. “Don’t like Tony too much?”

 

Steve shakes his head. “He’s a spoiled hotshot that only does anything to promote either himself or his products. From what I’ve heard, his company nearly brought about a whole new nuclear war. He’s changed directions but it’s still centered all around him and his money and parties and whatever flashy thing he can create.”

 

You set a hand on his wrist and send him a wave of tranquility.

 

The muscles in his shoulders and neck slowly relax as the wave sets in. He unclenches his fists. “Sorry,” he apologizes. “I just don’t think we share the same view of life.”

 

“Doesn’t sound like it,” you agree. You remove your hand, aware of your sudden lightheadedness. You shake it off. At least it didn’t trigger your stomach. “And it’s likely you probably won’t have to deal with him personally, so that’s good.”

 

“True. I’d hate to run into him.”

 

“Is he here in New York?”

 

Steve nods. “He lives in Malibu, California. But as of a few weeks ago, he moved to New York and started that building project they’re talking about.”

 

“The giant tower? Aren’t there enough skyscrapers here?” you tease.

 

“You’d think.”

 

“Well then maybe later we can drive by and throw some eggs his way!” you propose with a big grin on your face.

 

Steve gawks at you. His eyes increasingly grow wider as the very idea sets in.

 

“Whoa, dude, chill. I’m kidding,” you say with a laugh.

 

His sudden worry deflates. He shakes his head at you.

 

You just laugh, lifting the book back up to continue reading.

 

But Steve continues watching you, wondering just how much you _are_ kidding. He takes in your profile. The soft curve of your cheek, the slight slope of your nose, the small lips that betray you when you smile. His mother would have compared you to one of her fairytales, a pixie perhaps.

 

Your eyes are a peculiar color in contrast to your skin coloring and hair. What he finds most fascinating about them though is still the ocean of emotion that you carry within them. Your expressions light them up, and when you try to put up a wall, it’s like watching an ice casing form around your heart.

 

And his mind returns to that question he’s been asking since meeting you: _who are you?_

 

Your eyes catch his at that moment. “Yes?” you question, feeling the burn of his gaze on your face. It warms your cheeks.

 

“Uh,” Steve stutters, quickly glancing down at his sketchbook. “Um, just wanted… to show you what I drew.”

 

“Oh, you finished?” You eagerly close the book and shift your legs to better face him. You've been waiting all afternoon to get to see, using the book as an effective way of not cheating and looking over.

 

A half-smile lifts his cheek as he observes your excitement. He hands you the sketchbook.

 

You grasp it delicately to not smudge the lead. The pencil sketch displays the night sky. Stars gather around a near full moon. Upon the horizon, a streak covers the page coming to a bright point. Your lips spread into a smile, eyes lighting up. It’s a shooting star. Its tail creates a white contrast to the dark sky and gray land on the bottom half of the page. On what looks to be a grassy plain stands a single silhouette, watching.

 

“This is incredible,” you admire softly. “Are you gonna name it?”

 

“I was thinking ‘Alone in the Galaxy,’” Steve remarks wryly.

 

But you’re shaking your head. “You can’t call it that.”

 

“What should I call it then?”

 

“‘Make a Wish.’”

 

Steve can’t help his smile. He takes back the sketchbook and turns to the back of the sketch. On the bottom, left-hand corner he names it: _Make a Wish_. He then signs his name and dates it. Then he moves to the upper, right-hand corner and writes down your name in his neat handwriting.

 

 _For you, the shooting star_.


	9. Shopping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter in which Steve cares more about your appearance than you do! xD

The next morning after eating breakfast, you ask Steve if he’d be kind enough to let you use his shower.

 

“Of course!” Steve nearly exclaims. “Go right ahead!”

 

You laugh at his wide-eyed expression.

 

He searches his room to find you a spare towel. “I’m sorry I didn’t offer sooner.”

 

You take the offered towel. “Don’t worry about it. You’ve done more than enough for me already.”

 

And yet as you disappear into the bathroom, Steve can’t help but think that he hasn’t done enough for you.

 

The shower is a wonderfully, glorious event. To just stand under the waterfall, the hot water running over your body, leaves you refreshed and relaxed. You’ve been staying in contact with Thomasin. There’s been no change in her warping. Thankfully they got Thor back and have been staying with the humans that they managed to befriend. Things seem to be tranquil; the creatures have not reappeared yet.

 

You scrub down, taking note of your legs to see if the bruises and cuts are gone. You take special care in washing your hair, undoing knots and tangles, taming the mess that it is. When you’re about done, you decide to try one last thing before getting out. You command the water that’s pooled at your feet.

 

It jumps to your hand, creating an orb of swirling water.

 

You suddenly swoon and nearly lose your footing. You brace yourself against the shower wall and wait as the nausea threatens to bring your breakfast back up. The running water helps everything settle back down. When you’re sure your better, you turn off the water and towel off. You slide back into your leathers, this time, all of them. You leave off the bracers, since there’s no need for them. You braid your hair back into one long strand and tie it off with a band you keep in your pack.

 

Steve glances up from his sketching when you enter the room and does a doubletake. This is the first time he’s seen you wearing the leathers properly while standing. Only now does he see how the whole suit works. “You look…”

 

“Odd?” you finish for him.

 

“That’s not quite the word I was thinking. Though it fits,” Steve replies. His original word was _striking_. “You don’t have any other clothes, correct?”

 

You nod as you take a seat next to him. “They kind of got left behind.”

 

Steve’s mind is working quickly. “Then let’s go get you some,” he states.

 

You raise an eyebrow. “Clothes? As in… go shopping?” you ask.

 

The lopsided smile appears. “Yes, ma’am!”

 

~*~

 

After hailing a taxi down, you and Steve get dropped off on a busy street, lined with stores, and immensely busy with people. The sights, smells, and sounds of New York suddenly become very real to you again as you cling to Steve’s arm. Cell phones ring, screens flash, cars whir by, and the masses of people talking and moving are all just pieces of the whole buzz.

 

Steve sees how your eyes jump from person to person. Your practically pressed into his side. You jump every time a car honks their horn or a siren goes off somewhere. While Steve does not prefer crowds, he is not unused to the busyness of this city. He gently pulls his arm out of your clutches to wrap it around you and quickly guides you to the closest store.

 

Once inside, your senses slowly acclimate to the closed-in space, and you can feel yourself think and process again. The heavy pounding of your heart in your ears makes it hard. All you find yourself doing is hugging Steve, burying your face in his chest, gripping his jacket.

 

“I’m really sorry about that, Star,” Steve whispers to you. “I did not think through how you would take to the city.”

 

You shake your head, again and again. “It’s fine,” you wheeze out. “I’m sorry…. I just wasn’t ready, and it was a lot to take in…. All the people. All the noise. So much movement.” You suck in a shaky breath, burying your face again. “I’m okay.”

 

Steve finds it hard to believe you since you’ve hardly let up from your grip, your body tight as a spring. He can feel the slightest tremble of your body. He rubs your back gently. “It’ll be alright,” he says softly. “I’m here. You’re not alone in this. I’ll get you through.”

 

 _I’m here_. You remember those words. They pulled you out of your feverish delusions. They’ve been wholly true since that moment. Steve is here, and here for you. As he has been. You gaze up into his worried blue eyes. “You’re here,” you say.

 

He nods, face serious. “I’m right here.”

 

You take in a deep breath and, as you release it, you release the tension in your shoulders. You slowly pull away from him and gather your bearings. “Okay,” you tell yourself.

 

Steve offers you his arm. “Ma’am,” he says with the tilt of his head, the rim of his baseball cap shadowing his eyes.

 

The chuckle that comes out is one of nerves and tension. Your cheeks go pink from your own awkwardness, and yet you take his arm, thankful for his proximity.

 

Steve leads you further into what must be some kind of department store. It’s three stories tall with moving escalators and elevators connecting them up at the center. The floor you’re on is that of the jewelry and makeup department, with handbags and scarfs off to one side and other accessories to the other.

 

You trail Steve as he heads for the escalator, your eyes roaming over the abundance of items all around. You can feel your one hand gripping Steve’s jacket sleeve as the other clings to your sling bag’s strap. _If it’s not yours… don’t **touch** it_.

 

“Oh, girl, I love your outfit!”

 

You whirl around when someone places a hand on your shoulder, letting go of Steve. You thankfully don’t draw a dagger.

 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” a tall, young lady with big brown eyes says with a giggle. She wears a big, bright smile.

 

A guy stands beside her. His eyes look you over. “What are you dressed up for?” he asks, moody thing that he is.

 

“Oh, umm… uhh,” you stammer out. _Shit! Why can’t I think of anything!_

 

“Shakespeare in the Park,” Steve answers, resting his arm around your shoulders. “Big fan,” he says easily.

 

You ease slightly at his touch, but they’re still watching you.

 

“Oh, I love Shakespeare in the Park!” the girl exclaims, bouncing up and down. “So where did you get your outfit? It looks so authentic!” Her eyes trace over the designs etched into the chest piece. “Hot Topic? Etsy?”

 

You finally nod, your face growing increasingly warm. _I don’t know what any of these things are! Please stop asking me questions_.

 

“I’ll have to look it up, because this is incredible! What did you search?”

 

You don’t know how to escape the big brown eyes. “Uhh, I think it was… mythology… battle outfit… something like that,” you tell her.

 

“That’s so cool. I’m definitely checking that out when I get home!” The girl smiles so big at you that you wonder if it makes her mouth hurt.

 

“Well I wish you luck. Took me a while to find it,” you add, humoring yourself.

 

“Thanks! Hope you have a good day!” The girl takes the guy’s arm, and the two waltz off together.

 

Your shoulders slump as you let out a huge breath. Your eyes catch others staring at you but they keep moving.

 

Steve chuckles.

 

You cut him a look. “What’s Shakespeare in the Park?” you ask him.

 

“Groups and companies go to Central Park and perform Shakespearian plays for the public,” he answers. “What’s Etsy?”

 

You shrug. “I don’t know. But she said ‘search’ so I assume it has something to do with that thing… umm, what’s it called… internet! The internet, since it has some kind of… search engine, right?”

 

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Steve says.

 

“I mean where I come from most of the technology is connected to some big database or something. It connects to computer-like screens and other communication devices and from it you can search things. I take it this is similar.”

 

Steve just shrugs with a half-smile. “I’m really not the one to ask.”

 

That makes you laugh. “Damn, we’re lame. Come on, let’s go find me some clothes before I have to endure that another conversation like that again,” you tease.

 

Steve directs you to the escalator, and soon you both find the women’s clothing.

 

~*~

 

It takes you a long time to figure out your sizes. You finally had to just ask someone. The worker kindly measured you after explaining to her that on your flight over to New York from Europe, your luggage got lost somewhere and you need new clothes, but don’t understand the sizing system. After that, searching the racks for pants and shirts became a whole lot easier.

 

You smile as you find some pants. _Denim. Jeans_. You’ve always liked this earthly material. It’s durable, flexible, and stylish. It’s rare to find such a commodity in most worlds. And as you discovered many years ago, jeans endure a lot. You pick two out, and then move onto shirts.

 

This one is more difficult. Shirts on Earth don’t protect much, too thin, too flimsy. _But they’re cute!_ You sigh. It’s not practical to pick something for its design when it won’t do you much good in the end. But it’s Earth; therefore, this is what you get. You find a set of long blouses with wide necklines. They’re light and will be easy to move in, so you pick out two, a blue one and a green one.

 

Satisfied with your choices, you go to find Steve. He’s trying to decipher how women’s sports clothes work. He turns his eyes to your smiling face.

 

“Here we are,” you tell him proudly.

 

He looks down at your wares and raises a blond brow. “That’s it?” he questions.

 

Your smile falls into a look of confusion. “Well, I don’t really need much,” you answer.

 

“Surely you need more than just two changes of clothes.”

 

You look at the clothes and give a shrug. “I’ve been worse off.”

 

Steve shakes his head. “But that’s not the case here. So, go, get some more clothes, find yourself a dress, plus don’t you need… _other_ things as well?” His fair cheeks grow pink.

 

You blush, glancing away. “Yeah, okay, fine.”

 

He takes the clothes you’re holding, and you go back to find some more.

 

You pick up a shopping basket along the way. You go ahead and find some undergarments. You get enough to last you several days. Nearby you find some pajamas so you pick out a set that consists of a tank top and a pair of shorts. You go back and find some more blouses. You even decide to get yourself a jacket, after seeing a simple, black peacoat with a hood. You grab a third pair of jeans, and on your way back to Steve, your eyes catch a pretty, day dress in the color of mint with white borders. You hesitate for a second before grabbing it and stuffing it into the basket.

 

This time Steve looks satisfied with your collection. He smiles at you. “Ready?”

 

You nod. “On one condition,” you tell him.

 

“What?”

 

“We must get you some art supplies,” you say with a grin. “If you’re going to spend this much on me, then you should get something for yourself too.”

 

Steve rolls his eyes but his lopsided smile tells you that he concedes. “Deal. Let’s check out.”

 

You wait in line to pay for the items.

 

Steve stands next to you looking pensive.

 

“What’s on your mind?” you ask.

 

“I was just thinking about the money,” he says. “It’s not really mine. S.H.I.E.L.D. provides it. When I woke up, I was given some files to explain what happened while I was gone, an apartment to live in, and credit and debit cards for my personal use. I get a monthly allowance.”

 

“Sooo you’re being paid to live.”

 

His blond brows bounce. “Seems like it.”

 

You shrug. “All the more reason to go get you things,” you confirm with a smile.

 

~*~

 

After that crazy shopping spree, you got to stop at a bathroom to change into one of your new pairs of jeans and blouses. You keep the boots and do your best to not point them out to Steve, fearing that he’ll make you go shoe shopping too. Steve takes great comfort in seeing you dressed in normal clothes. There’s a lot you still haven’t told him, and he has a growing suspicion that you’ll leave suddenly. But seeing you blend in takes some stress off his mind, knowing that if you look the part, you’re less likely to get hurt. If he would’ve voiced any of these things, you would’ve agreed with him.

 

You stop at a deli place to get lunch and laugh over how much neither of you know technology here. The cashier was using this thing called an “iPad” to take your orders. And when it came time to pay and sign, Steve had no clue what he was doing. The guy was kind enough to patiently explain to the both of you how to go about touching the screen and writing on it. The sooner you got away, the sooner you both could stop feeling so awkward.

 

In the timespan of eating your late lunch and taking up another hour of just chatting, the sky darkened. Heavy, gray clouds roll in, obscuring the sun and bringing about an icy breeze. Already you’re grateful for your new jacket. You and Steve dare to brave the weather, since you took a taxi, and continue onto the closest art store you can find.

 

The moment you step inside you see Steve’s eyes grow bright. You’ve seen the same look on Thomasin’s face before. This time it’s you who gets to trail behind and watch as Steve hardly knows what to do with himself. His eyes search the aisles, his mind trying to categorize it all. You’re surprised it’s never occurred to him to come and get some supplies for his art. After everything he’s done for you, you’re happy to get to see him do something for himself.

 

In the paint aisle, you pick up a loose brush and twirl it between your fingers. “Do you have an art preference?” you ask as your eyes roam over the shelves and shelves of things.

 

“In college, I got to experiment with paints very little, but I really liked them. I worked a lot with charcoals and ink,” Steve answers. “I’d like to try painting again.” He pulls out some pallets and pads of paper, placing them in the basket you asked to carry.

 

You still fiddle with the brush, playing with its soft bristles. “Did Peggy like art?” you randomly blurt out.

 

Steve’s hand pauses for a second before grabbing a set of brushes. “Not that I recall…. But she liked dancing,” he says meeting your eyes. “That was going to be our first date, had things gone differently.” A tinge of sadness creeps into his gaze.

 

You nod slowly and let him return to searching for items. “Dancing’s fun,” you tell him. “It’s one of my favorite things, actually.” You’re moving down the aisle, absentmindedly looking at things. “You should still try it sometime. It’s a lot of fun.” You pause to glance back at him, smiling.

 

He meets your smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

~*~

 

The skies have grown significantly darker by the time you and Steve make it out of the art store. The wind whips your braid every which way. No rain has fallen yet but it’s soon approaching.

 

Steve goes to hail down a taxi.

 

You start to follow when something catches your eye. You turn and glance down the side of the store, the narrow strip between the two buildings. There had been some shadow movement that didn’t sit well with you.

 

There’s a strange glow towards the back.

 

You start feeling it out.

 

Lightning flashes, illuminating the alleyway. Two workers from the store are lighting their cigarettes.

 

The knot in your stomach eases but you still jump with the thunderclap.

 

Steve calls your name.

 

You quickly make your way to him and step inside the taxi. Your eyes keep darting back to the alley. You know it wasn’t the creatures but the glow of the lighters in the dark still unnerved you. You are more than happy to be on your way back to the apartment.

 

~*~

 

It’s late into the night and you are still wide awake. Your eyes watch the shadows in the room created by the lightning that flashes outside the windows. The thunder has been your constant companion. Rain pounds against the panes and side of the building. It’s coming down in sheets.

 

You long gave up on sleep and just sit on the couch, trying to read through a book. It’s not holding your attention though. The lightning and the shadows keep distracting you.

 

 **Enjoying the light show? I’m a fan**. Laughter emanates from the shadows of your mind.

 

 _Get out. I don’t have time for you_.

 

She scoffs. **Oh, please, you’ve got nothing but time. You’re just here... _all_ alone. No one to be with you**.

 

 _Shut up, Damina_.

 

She just laughs. **You deserve to be alone, after all you’ve done. But I’ll spare you and keep you company for a little while**.

 

 _Go away. I don’t want your company_.

 

 **So rude**.

 

Lightning cracks above, scaring you out of your wits. You gather the blanket to yourself, eyes darting over the shadowed room.

 

Damina laughs. **Oh, how I loved the power of electricity. It’s beautiful and striking! Strong and hard to wield**.

 

 _And what you did was unnatural, dangerous_.

 

 **You’re just jealous that your power doesn’t have the attacking element behind it**.

 

You rub your eyes. It’s going to be a long night. The rain still pounds against the windows. _Not all powers are for attacking. Mine protect, defend_.

 

 **And they make you weak**.

 

Anger bubbles up. _Your pride was your weakness. You were nothing more than a selfish, power hungry_ -

 

Suddenly the bedroom door bursts open. Steve stalks out gruffly and makes his way to the kitchen. His broad shoulders are tight, his fists clenched. He grabs the edge of the sink, body trembling. His breathing is strangled.

 

You jump up and run over. “Steve?” You call and gently pull on his shoulder to have him face you.

 

His blue eyes move frantically, seeing things that are not here.

 

You take his face to make him look down at you. “Steve, look at me,” you order firmly. “I’m here. Can you hear me? Can you be here?” You find the sense of tranquility and feed it into his presence. “Steve, be here. Come back. Look at me. Can you be here? Can you be here with me?”

 

He grips your shoulders but a breath escapes his lips and breaks the tension in his body. You pull it off him and replace it with ease. Panting, he blinks away the images. His body’s tremors slow. His blue eyes finally see yours.

 

“Hey, it’s alright,” you tell him gently. “You’re here. And you’re safe.”

 

Steve’s shoulders slump, and he hangs his head. A layer of sweat covers his forehead. He wears an undershirt and a pair of sweatpants. He says your name.

 

“I’m here.” You fuel him some strength. “Everything is okay.”

 

He lifts his head and gently releases your shoulders to straight himself, leaving your touch. He swipes at his face. “Sorry,” he apologizes. “I get…”

 

You nod, grabbing a hold of the island behind you. “I know. Nightmares, flashbacks. I get them, too, still. It’s alright. Just take it easy and ground yourself,” you tell him, feeling your body sway. It’s coming.

 

He rests against the sink, taking deep breaths.

 

You take a step and immediately lose your footing, your head swimming.

 

Steve catches you before your body crumples to the floor. “Damn it, Star,” he reprimands.

 

“Thooorrrry,” you slur out.

 

He picks you up and carries you to the couch. He set you down gently and lets you ball yourself up. He wraps the blanket around you. Finally, Steve joins you on the couch. “What did you do?” he asks.

 

Your head lulls back and forth, white spots cover your vision. It feels like your tongue is swimming through syrup. “Helped you… calm down,” you answer slowly.

 

“How?”

 

“I work with emotions… feelings… senses.” You try wetting your tongue and clearing the fogginess. “I can move them, manipulate them.”

 

Steve grows thoughtful. “You did it yesterday, when I got worked up about Stark,” he states.

 

You nod delicately.

 

“But it didn’t affect you then.”

 

“Yes, it did…. I just hid it better.”

 

Steve shakes his head at you. “Don’t do that. I don’t want you to do that. I want to know when things affect you. I want to help you, too.”

 

You’re finally able to focus on his sky-blue eyes. They’re soft with concern over you. Worry make his handsome features look so strict. “You must understand that this is a deeply ingrained habit of mine.” You feel yourself sigh. “I’ll try not to hide.”

 

“ _Just_ try?” he challenges.

 

You give him a half-smile and hold out your hand to him. “I’ll do my best to not hide from you. Forgive me if I can’t always manage it.”

 

Steve shakes your hand firmly, sealing the deal. He gives it a squeeze before letting it go. He relaxes against the couch. “So, you couldn’t sleep either?” he asks.

 

Almost as if fate taunts you, lightning strikes again. Thunder shakes the windowpanes.

 

You flinch and bury yourself further into the blanket. You meet his gaze. “I’m not the biggest fan of lightning,” you admit timidly. “Unpleasant memories.”

 

Steve smiles softly at you. “Can I tell you a story?”

 

You smile, cheeks warming slightly. “I’d love that.”

 

He immediately dives into one of his adventures as Captain America during the war. He tells of his friends, the Howling Commandos, and Bucky, and Peggy, and his gruff Colonel Phillips.

 

And slowly the storm ebbs. You go with it. The use of your abilities exhausted you more than you anticipated.

 

Steve watches you fall asleep, and it makes him smile to do so. He gets up and makes sure that you are well and covered before heading to his own bed, exhausted as well. He finds sleep quickly.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also: the chapter in which you find out that Reader has an unfortunate voice in her head lol
> 
> Btw, thank you to everyone's awesome comments! I've been enjoying hearing your thoughts. Know that they mean so very much to me! ^_^
> 
> If you're interested at all in following my Tumblr posts connected to this piece and other fun Cap/Avengers stuff, you can find me [here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/shootingstarsojourner) =)


	10. Falling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya, friends! Sorry it's been a bit. I got busy with family. and this chapter decided to give me a hard time for a while before it finally came together.
> 
> FYI, our Emerald Prince returns in this one!

The next several days create their own pattern. Steve wakes before you to make breakfast, and you wake in time to eat it. Morning chats always make for a happy Steve and a very mumbly you. You endure his teasing simply because you’re not awake enough to do much about it but you also enjoy seeing the way his eyes light up when he is merry.

 

Steve was very excited to get to use his new art supplies, so the rest of the mornings became his creative space and time. You usually sit at the open windowsill that leads out to the fire escape with a book in hand. You enjoy the breeze and listening to the music that plays through the radio. It makes for pleasant hours of simplicity. On occasion he teaches you a technique or two, but you rather watch him draw than attempt it yourself.

 

Lunchtime always brings about the change of pace. You both go out and find a new place to eat at. Immediately following, the two of you walk down the streets of Manhattan, typically Time Square. You’re doing your best to learn how to navigate the city, and Steve enjoys pointing out the changes and telling you of what used to be. You’ve taken on the duty of teaching Steve how to work with technology every time you run into a different version of it. He’s baffled when he comes to understand that some stores are solely made for technology. You spend a lot of time there playing with the tablets and computers to learn.

 

It also allows you to do research. Using something they call an app – short for “application,” you come to learn – you discover a map of America. The distance between New Mexico and New York is about a day and a half long by car nonstop. And with Tom’s warping still out of commission, there’s no way you’re making that journey without your abilities. You’ve been testing them off and on to check on their progress, but each time you get a different result. None positive, unfortunately. You need to figure out a way to get them to return to normal. If Tom calls you for help, you need to be able to get to her without fail.

 

Evenings are usually a winding down. After dinner, you and Steve hang out at the apartment. You watch television together. Steve holds an intriguing fascination with listening to the news, almost like he searches for something within their reports. Sometimes for lack of anything better, you stand to listen in on Tony Stark’s remarks on his tower project that the media is going crazy over. He should be finishing up soon, and he’s promising a party to celebrate, to which everyone listening in goes insane over.

 

You understand why Steve can have a tough time relating to Tony. When a man has that much money, and the freedom to do with it what he wants, it’s hard to find someone who won’t immediately spend it frivolously.

 

“Funny what wealthy, or the lack of, will do to a person,” you tell Steve as he turns off the television.

 

“Have you ever known wealth?” he asks curiously.

 

You shake your head as you scoff. “I’m usually struggling to hold two pennies to my name! No, most of my life, I’ve lived gaining money in less than lawful ways usually.”

 

“You are a thief.”

 

You nod, noting that he used the present tense and not the past.

 

“Well, while you’re here, there’s no need for you to resort to stealing.” He gives you that smile, the one full of genuine trust. It’s open, and it brings out his blue eyes.

 

It turns your cheeks pink. “Thanks,” you say, glancing away. You’re aware of just how close he is to you.

 

“Star,” he calls softly.

 

Your eyes return to his. For a second, you forget to breathe. “Yes?” you get out.

 

Steve opens his mouth to say something. But as he watches your face, he battles his way out of it. He sees the curiosity in your eyes. The rosy tint of your cheeks makes him smile. His hands feel clammy as his stomach does things he’s not used to. And without thinking, he brings his fingers to your cheek, almost to stroke it. Instead he tucks a stray lock of your hair behind your ear, and then he quickly takes his hand back.

 

Something in your own stomach flutters at the gesture.

 

Steve swallows and tries to clear his mind. “I’m, um, going to head to bed,” he tells you.

 

You nod, pulling yourself to present surroundings. “Okay, get some rest then,” you reply.

 

He rises from the couch and heads to his room. Just before entering, he turns back to you. “Goodnight, Star.”

 

“Goodnight, Steve.” You see him off with a smile. When the door closes behind him, you let out a long breath. You distract yourself by turning off the lights and changing, and then climbing into your makeshift bed on the couch. You check in on Tom before trying to sleep. But you feel it there, something in your stomach is stirring. And it’s creeping towards your heart.

 

~*~

 

Staring up at the living room ceiling eventually convinces you that you’re not going to fall asleep anytime soon. So with a resigned sigh, you sit up on the couch. Your eyes follow the scattered art supplies that lay across the coffee table. They make you smile knowing that art brings such joy to Steve, a joy he deserves. Your meager doodles next to his expertise look like that of a child’s. Yet still you pick up the little sketchpad that he’s given to you and grab the blue and red pens. You take them to the kitchen table where light comes in from the windows and sit down.

 

Carefully, you write out Steve’s name in the blue pen, adding some accents and embellishments to the letters. You then take the red pen and go back to add fill-in color to each of the letters. You pick the blue back up and add stars around the top. Beneath the name, you sketch out some red and white stripes. You smile down at your simple creation, proud of yourself. You even decide to sign it with a little shooting star on the bottom left-hand corner. _There!_

 

The sounds of the street below waft up to the windows, grabbing your attention. You rise and go open the fire escape window. A gust of frigid wind hits your face. You grab a pair of jeans and pull them on over your pajama shorts and slip into your coat. Barefoot, you step out onto the fire escape and climb up. It’s at least another four stories before reaching the roof. The wind blows harder over the open area.

 

You walk the perimeter watching the cars pass by far down below. You’ve gotten used to the city noises by now but some part of you still misses the quiet of the forest. The array of lights make for an intriguing puzzle that maps out the land. If you leap over using the rooftops, you could probably see a lot of the city in one night. And it would look nothing like what you’ve seen so far in the daylight from the streets.

 

Makes for a perfect distraction. The curious idea brings a smile to your face. You glance around and find a nearby building to jump over to and start backing up to gather speed. You take off in a run.

 

And Loki appears.

 

You gasp and trip over your feet, rolling right through the mirage.

 

Laughter rolls in from behind you. “I did not know that you were better, healer,” the prince teases.

 

His words make you groan as they remind you that you are indeed _not_ better yet. “I’m not,” you mutter. You push yourself up from the ground and dust off. You finally turn back to face the Emerald Prince’s smirking illusion.

 

“Human clothes suit you, healer,” Loki assess as he looks you over. He seems pleasantly at ease.

 

Your brows knit. “Are you making some kind of jab?” you question.

 

“Not at all,” he says easily.

 

You work your way through his words and his disposition before finally deciding that he’s being honest. Surprised at the compliment, you glance down to see if you missed something. But your clothes are all intact, if a bit dusty. “Umm, thanks,” you answer awkwardly, still thrown off.

 

“Do you care for Midgard?”

 

You dust off some more and move to the edge of the building where you rest against the encircling wall. “I suppose so,” you tell him. “It’s a place where I can blend in more easily.”

 

“A creature of power among such lowly, boring beings?”

 

You roll your eyes. Your thoughts wander to Steve and how he’s enhanced by the serum. A great force of good. His enemy was enhanced by the same thing yet sought out a foreign object of power to rule the world. You can also recollect your other adventures on Earth from before this visit, and they were anything but dull. “Oh, yeah, _very_ boring they are.” You shrug. “After living on my planet, Earth holds a refreshing simplicity that I enjoy.”

 

Loki shakes his head. “I do not understand.”

 

You laugh and cross your arms. “Well not everything needs to be as magnificent as Asgard,” you throw at him.

 

“Such a waste,” he concludes.

 

You expect no less from the Emerald Prince. “You’re in good humor,” you note. “What’s up?”

 

For a split second, Loki’s eyes jump to gaze upon the stars above before his mind riddled out your phrase. He then proceeds to glance over the view of the vast city around us. “There’s been some changes that have brought about some fortune my way,” he tells you.

 

“Well that’s nice. So what are you doing here?”

 

Loki turns his keen, emerald eyes to you. “I’ve come to learn about your gent,” he says smoothly.

 

“My what?” you stammer, fighting the rising blush. That was not what you expected him to say, and it’s sent your thoughts into a frenzy. You came up here to clear your crazy whir of emotions, not feed them!

 

“Your _very_ generous host. Did he buy you your simple garb?”

 

“Well… yes. I don’t really have money.” You press your hands against your sides to keep them from doing anything.

 

“I assume he provides you meals as well.”

 

“Yes, he has.” You eye the prince, wondering where he’s going with this conversation.

 

“And you live with him at no cost.”

 

You nod. “So?”

 

“It would seem he has taken a great liking to you,” Loki surmises with a smirk.

 

“What? No,” you quickly counter. “He’s just a kind man.” Your cheeks are heating up quickly, though.

 

“No man is _so_ kind without reason.” He gives you a very pointed look. “And you return the feelings.”

 

Now your cheeks are just plain red. “Wha-I-that-you have no grounding for such a statement!”

 

“Oh, _don’t_ I?” Loki asks with a growing grin. He steps closer and with his phantom hand just runs by your cheek, the same one Steve brushed. “One doesn’t fluster so easily if my words were not true.”

 

A chill runs down your back from the illusion’s touch.

 

“You may not have his artistic skill yet you decorated his name, almost like an endearment,” Loki continues.

 

You realize that he was in the apartment before this, snooping. He saw your letter art. And only thinking of it from this side do you realize that it looks like you drew out your crush’s name. _But that’s exactly what I did_. You move a hand to cover your mouth. That feeling swirls in your stomach again.

 

The Emerald Prince chuckles as he watches you. “Tell me, healer, do you hold feelings for your St-”

 

“Captain,” you interrupt, and then immediately want to shoot yourself in the foot. “He has a title: Captain.”

 

The green eyes gleam. “All the better.”

 

You glance away. You know that if he knows Steve’s title, it’s likely he will not use his actual name in his derisive, arrogant tone.

 

“Do you care for this giving Captain you’ve come to reside with?” Loki asks.

 

You bow your head, unable to deny it.

 

The prince leans close. “Say it, healer.”

 

“Yes,” you finally say aloud, meeting his emerald gaze. “I like him. I’ve come to care for him in the brief time I’ve been here.” The knot in your stomach explodes into a million butterflies at the confession. It warms you, your cheeks flushing.

 

You think about Steve, about his sweet demeanor, his charming lopsided smile, his watchful blue eyes, and his caring heart. It melts the meager wall you tried putting up after your loss. Your heart welcomes the feelings. You are not made to hold people at bay. You miss having a special connection to someone, whom you can call yours.

 

And as Steve hides in the fire escape just out of sight, many of the same feelings stir in himself. He almost wonders if you’re projecting your emotions and he just happens to be within reach. But the rush in his stomach can only be coming from him and no one else.

 

Loki straightens, a smug look on his face. “I thought so,” he gloats. His eyes cut to the edge of the building, his smile growing.

 

You look away again. Your fingers pick at the hem of your coat.

 

“You should tell him.”

 

“What?” you exclaim. “No! I can’t do that!”

 

“Why ever not?”

 

“Because I don’t know if he feels anything like that for me in return!” Yet even as you say that, you can’t say it with certainty. So you quickly find something else. “I also don’t even know how long I’m going to be here, what with Thomasin planning on coming to get me when she can. And suddenly I’ll be gone, out of his life – poof! That would be so cruel to him, and it would hurt me too.” Tears sting your eyes, and you blink them away quickly.

 

“Did you know Odin once offered the warrior an army to follow her to your home planet in order to destroy the original base of the Ordinat?” Loki inquires.

 

You’re thrown off by the sudden change of subject but you’re also surprised by the information given. You shake your head.

 

“I imagined not. It came with a single condition: to give up the prince.”

 

Your eyes widen as your mouth makes an “o” in shock.

 

A smirk takes his mouth as he shakes his head. “She refused. She informed the Allfather that when one has lost as much as she, one doesn’t just give up what little they do have.”

 

A laugh bubbles up from your throat. _That’s Tom for you_. “And that’s why I ended up saving your sorry ass,” you retort.

 

Loki gives you a look. “My _point_ is, healer, you have little to lose. Should you not be grasping at what you could possibly have?” he asks.

 

His words hit hard, in a place full of hurt and longing. You’re left staring at him. “Why do you care?” you whisper.

 

“Would the warrior not have this conversation with you anyway?”

 

“You cannot have it in her stead.”

 

“Too late.”

 

Anger burns in your chest. “Go away, Loki. Go bother your brother, Thor. Or go have a date with Tom, for all I fucking care. But just leave me be.” In the tightness of your fists, your hands glow from your emotions ruling your abilities. You ignore the dizziness that follows.

 

The Emerald King chuckles. He is the God of Mischief, the Lord of Trickery, and now King of Asgard. He would not be doing himself justice if he did not live up to his reputation. He knows your Captain listens in. He brought the human to the conversation. He knows he’s stirred you up. What better way to start his personal reign than by celebrating his roots?

 

“Sleep well, healer,” Loki coos and fades into nothing.

 

~*~

 

You slump onto the rooftop and cry. The one thing you didn’t want to do, happened. You fell for the man. The sweet, charming, handsome, simple fellow from Brooklyn, from New York, from the 1940s, he’s got you absolutely endeared by his blue eyes and easy smile, blond hair and broad shoulders, tall and strong. He’s been so kind to you, gone above and beyond for you. That doesn’t just happen. And he could’ve stopped at any time. Instead he took you in and gave you so much. And with the soft heart that you have and hold, you let it be filled with him. Then you’ll have to leave.

 

A sob escapes you.

 

Steve quietly climbs onto the roof and walks over to you. As he kneels before you, he calls your name.

 

Your eyes jump up to the treasured man before you.

 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, eyes full of concern.

 

Tears fill your eyes. You reach out for him.

 

Steve moves to sit with you and pulls you into his embrace.

 

You cry into his shoulder.

 

He strokes your hair. He doesn’t necessarily know where to start with any of this. He can’t bring himself to tell you that he overheard your conversation. And he himself needs to process the things he heard. There’s questions swirling around in his mind about who you even talked to as well. But none of that is important. You are upset, and he can’t stand that.

 

After several minutes, the tears slowly start to ebb.

 

“What happened, Star?” Steve asks you quietly.

 

You sniff. “I’m not really sure,” you whisper. “So much... clouded my mind... and I got overwhelmed.” You grip his shoulders. “Sorry to worry you.”

 

Steve pulls back slightly to take your face in his hand. “I’m not the one who needs to be worried over.”

 

Your eyes brim with tears. His blue eyes are so full of genuine care and concern. You can feel it wrap you up from his core. It makes you duck your head. _How can he care for such a stranger that will only bring him trouble?_

 

Steve lifts your chin gently. “Let’s go back inside,” he says softly.

 

You nod and wipe your cheeks.

 

He helps you get to your feet, and you both make your way to the fire escape. Steve goes first so he can help you along the way. Once back inside the apartment, Steve eases as he takes in the familiarity of his home. But he worries as he sees that you are long lost in your thoughts.

 

Steve steps closer and draws you to himself.

 

His touch wakes you up, and you gaze up at his soft, blue eyes. His chest warms you. “Steve,” you whisper.

 

The slightest of smiles touch his lips as he relaxes at your voice. “Will you be able to fall asleep?” he asks.

 

You shrug.

 

“Would you like me to stay with you until you do?”

 

You nod.

 

Steve directs you back to the couch and, as you sink into it, you settle yourself against him. He offers no complain, no protest. He simply wraps an arm around you.

 

“Will you tell me another story?” you ask him.

 

“What of?”

 

You shrug again. “You never did tell me what exactly you did to make Peggy so mad at you.”

 

Steve grimaces and even chuckles. “Are you sure you want to hear that one?” he asks timidly. There’s a part of his mind that wonders why you would want to hear about his past love at this point in time.

 

“Is it bad?” you question.

 

“No, just... embarrassing.”

 

“You can choose something else,” you say with a smile.

 

He rubs your arm. “It was soon after rescuing the lost unit. I needed to meet with Howard to discuss the upgrades,” he starts.

 

You rest your head against the groove of his shoulder and listen as he gives you the play-by-play. You learn about the other girl, and how she trapped and seduced Steve to get a kiss in. You can imagine that she wanted much more. And, of course, Peggy had to walk in at that very moment, and she became most unforgiving. You laugh when he tells of how she shot at his newly found shield, something he was very proud to show her. She has no issue in testing it out for him. You don’t blame her, you’d have done the same thing, you tell him.

 

He laughs with you. “I don’t understand women’s jealousies,” he admits.

 

Your eyes are closed, and sleep is slowly pulling at you. “Jealousy is one thing,” you mumble with a yawn. “I would’ve done it out of spite.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Just to show you that I can stand for myself.”

 

He smiles, giving a slight shake. “You two would’ve liked one another.”

 

That makes you feel good, surprisingly. “I’m glad.” Sleep finally pulls you under.

 

Steve listens to your even breathing. He watches your peaceful face resting. You touch his heart, move it even. He’s never think he’d care for someone like this again. Didn’t think anyone would ever come around for him to care for. But as the fates would have it, here you are.

 

And he’s going to stop taking that for granted, before you disappear on him. Because if he can prevent it, he will. He can’t bring himself to see you leave without first fighting for you. And fighting is something he knows how to do very well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all know that thing that happens sometimes, when your fingers write things that your mind didn't originally plan for? Well this chapter is kinda the result of that.
> 
> Thoughts? =)
> 
> Hope y'all are enjoying it so far, I'm really looking forward to what *should* be the next three chapters! ^_^


	11. The Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! Sorry it's been a while, but we are still trucking along!

When you wake the following morning, nothing seems to be different.

 

Steve sets the table. He greets you with a warm smile when he sees you gazing around dazedly. “Morning,” he greets.

 

You give him a sleepy smile. You shuffle around and cross your arms on the armrest then set your chin on top of them. You’re still wearing the jeans and coat you put on over your pajamas last night. Your hair is a tangled mess. And you still feel exhausted from your emotional toll from late last night.

 

You watch him move around, tracing the silhouette of his body in your mind’s eye. You like how his broad figure slants in towards his narrow hips. His long strides let him move from the small kitchen to the dining area with minimal steps. His straight nose and the edge of his jaw mark the tilted angle of his face.

 

“How’d you sleep?” Steve asks. He doesn’t feel intensity coming from your gaze but he feels it nonetheless. It warms his core, bringing a smile to his lips.

 

You nod, yawning widely.

 

“You slept ‘yes’?”

 

You nod all the bigger at his taunt.

 

He laughs. “Well breakfast is ready,” he announces.

 

A yawn takes your mouth once more. You rub an eye. “Lemme change first,” you mumble sleepily.

 

“Go ahead.”

 

You grab a change of clothes then head to the bathroom. You change and wash your face and do your best to untangle your hair. You finally add some water to it which helps a lot then head back out.

 

Steve is waiting for you. But instead of already sitting, he’s waiting for you at your chair. He pulls it out for you and lets you sit before taking his own seat.

 

It’s a gentlemanly thing but one he’s never done before. It brings a shy smile to your face.

 

And that’s to become only one of many little things he does. He’ll hurry to open doors for you, hold out your chair, do trivial things with the mentality of “ladies first,” and wear that darling lopsided smile that makes his eyes twinkle as he does it.

 

You’ve just gotten used to the fluttery feeling it leaves your stomach in at this rate. You’ve also been reminded of how easily you blush at such kindnesses. So, your next few days consist of the typical routine you both built with little hidden messages all throughout. And every night is punctuated with a brush of your hands, a bump of the shoulders, or even a stroke of your cheek.

 

~*~

 

It’s one day when Steve sends you off to wander the mall as he runs “errands” that you start to fully form concerns over this.

 

_What is he up to? What is he doing? Does he understand what any of this means? And most importantly, did he overhear that conversation that night?_

 

You’re starting to convince yourself that he did and has just not let on. Actually, if he did listen in, you’re honestly surprised he hasn’t brought it back up and questioned the hell out of you for it. But if that’s the case then that means he’s accepted the one thing that affected him: that you like him.

 

_But how? Has he no worries about this? Doesn’t he want me to expressly tell him this? What if I’ve changed my mind? What if I **don’t** like him?_

 

The fact that you’re trying to argue this obviously kicks that possibility out.

 

You wander the mall aimlessly, your eyes looking but not really seeing. You need to talk to him about it. Because there’s implications that he may not fully understand.

 

 _A relationship with me will only end in my running away or heart_ -

 

Steve catches you as you run straight into him. His amused smile takes your breath away, making you smile in return and melt into him.

 

All tension has left your stomach. All worried thoughts have fled your mind. You just see him, and his golden hair and blue eyes that watch you closely, and all you can think of is how you don’t want to be apart from him.

 

“Ready?” he asks you.

 

You nod, afraid your voice has left you.

 

“Good. Let’s go find you some shoes.”

 

Immediately you revert to your obstinate self as you place your hands on your hips, and your chin juts out. “I don’t need shoes,” you object.

 

Steve holds in his laughter as he takes in the pixie’s front. “You can’t keep wearing those boots.”

 

“Sure, I can! Watch me.” You turn yourself around and begin walking away from him.

 

Chuckling, Steve catches up to you and wraps an arm around your waist. He swerves you into a nearby shoe store. “But you don’t have to,” he says in your ear softly. It’s the same argument he made for your clothes.

 

His warm breath makes you blush, and you forget your objections. You’ve come to realize that more than anything else you just want to make this man happy.

 

~*~

 

Friday night arrives, and the reason you don’t sleep is because you’re enjoying listening to the rain outside. So you don’t expect Steve to come out of his room so late into the night. But the nightmares woke him again. They weren’t as jarring but they’re enough to give him a shaken look.

 

You pull him to the couch with you. Once he sits, you snuggle into him, losing all concepts of inhibition.

 

He busies himself running his fingers up and down your exposed arm. He likes holding you like this. He’s discovered that the later into the night it is the closer you’re willing to be. Slowly his body eases again.

 

Neither of you really say anything. Eventually you doze off for a while, the sound of the rain lulling you. When you wake again, you find that Steve has fallen asleep. You play with the edge of his undershirt listening to him breathe. It’s a while before you realize that he’s watching you again.

 

When you catch his eye you quickly pretend to be asleep, squeezing your eyes shut tightly. You feel the rumble of his chest as he laughs softly. It makes you smile up at him. You adjust and move to lay your head on his lap to get to look at him.

 

He shifts to get comfortable. He strokes your hair with his left hand, and you find yourself holding his right over your belly.

 

You close your eyes playing with his fingers and drift off to the soothing feeling of his hand in your hair.

 

The rest of the night becomes a game of sleep tag until late morning rolls around. The rain still falls steadily outside.

 

Steve is stretched across the couch, back against the armrest using a pillow of yours, while you lay atop him.

 

Your head slowly rises and falls with the rhythm of his breathing. You are kept warm by his core. And, honestly, you could not be more relaxed even if you tried.

 

~*~

 

You come to wake from the low rumble of the television. According to the news, its nearly eleven in the morning, far past the usual time either of you are up.

 

But Steve is relaxed against the couch without a worry in his mind. One hand absently trails up and down your back.

 

You listen to his heart beat. It’s strong and steady, much like him. Your arms are wrapped around him lazily, and your legs are entangled with his. You are fully aware of how his body feels beneath yours, and it brings a flame to your cheeks. How did you get here? How did this even come about? You were only supposed to seek out shelter here till you got better. Which you are very nearly there. The last effects of the Bifrost are finally leaving your body. Your power has strengthened again but you’ve not been able to test it out properly as you know you should.

 

Tom is still with Thor and their friends. Both of you seem to just be riding the lull of time. Nothing has changed with her hiccup, and thankfully Loki hasn’t decided to reappear again. You’re still not ready to face him again, knowing the smug look he’d wear. You also still haven’t told Tom about Steve directly. All she knows is that your host is a very kind soul, and that’s about it. She hasn’t asked further, and you haven’t given extra. That’ll come back to bite. It always does when you hide things from your friend. Not that this is hiding, exactly; more like not volunteering information.

 

Steve watches you ponder your many thoughts. He’s learned to read your thinking face. Your eyes glaze over as your mind wanders. Sometimes your expressions give your thoughts away.

 

Currently something concerns you from the way your brows come together in concentration. Your body which laid at ease over his now is slowly tightening as worry sets in. He moves a lock of hair from your cheek. It draws your eyes to his blue ones, and almost all at once tension leaves your body, and you relax against him. He searches the depths of your eyes, the ocean of emotion they carry still. He sees them light up as you give him that smile you wear when you play. Mischief isn’t quite evident, but there’s definitely a sharp glint to question it.

 

“So are we just having a lazy Saturday today?” you ask him teasingly.

 

He smiles at you. “For the time being, yes,” he answers.

 

“Oh?” You raise an eyebrow. “Is there something else later?”

 

He gives you no answer, just holds his smile.

 

You make a face.

 

Steve laughs. And as he watches you roll your eyes and stick your tongue out at him, there’s nothing else he’d rather do than kiss your lips.

 

But you move before he can gather the courage to see it through. You stand up and stretch.

 

Steve moves his legs and sits properly on the couch once more. His eyes roam over your petite form. He continues to watch as you dance over to the kitchen to scrounge around for food. He listens as you hum an unknown tune, opening and closing drawers. He’s letting himself be entranced by your movements. He’s never noticed how smoothly you move; you almost sway. You’re light of step, and everything you do always comes off as dainty, delicate. Again, Steve takes a moment to wonder how you fight. He’ll have to remember to ask you. But first, he has other things to ask you.

 

Steve stands and approaches you. “Star?” he calls.

 

“Yes’m?” you reply, looking up from pouring yourself cereal. You can see that there’s something on his mind.

 

“I have… something to ask you… and give you, actually.”

 

You freeze right before you begin to pour the milk. “What?”

 

He nods. He looks nervous.

 

“Steve, you’ve already done so much for me! I don’t need any gifts or such. I’m fine. I’ve survived with far, _far_ less than you’ve already provided me. Seriously, don’t ever feel like you have to get me anything.” You don’t necessarily mean to say that much but it came out without your permission. The milk is forgotten next to your bowl of cereal.

 

Steve can see the fret growing in your eyes. He finds this front against gifts and giving strange so he steps closer and pulls you to him. He strokes your hair gently.

 

You watch him quietly.

 

“First off, I don’t think it’s going to be anything like what you might expect. Please, hear me out.”

 

You huff out a breath but nod.

 

Steve sticks a hand in his pants’ pocket and draws out something. He holds his palm up, a device sitting in the center. It’s a navy blue rectangular object about two inches long and one inch wide.

 

You stare at it with a tilted head. It takes you longer than it should’ve to register what it is. “A cellphone?” you inquire.

 

Steve gives you a quick nod. “I want you to have a way to communicate while you’re here in America. I know you have friends around. I thought this might make it easier for you to contact them, rather than using your book.”

 

Your eyes jump to his. “Wait, how do you know about my journal?” you ask startled.

 

“You always give information after reading it or writing in it. I’ve assumed it’s a communication system.”

 

You don’t even bother trying to lie. “Yeah, it has magical qualities that allow us to talk with one another.”

 

Steve waves the phone. “While you’re here, it’ll be easier,” he states. He pulls back slightly.

 

You take the phone from him. It’s a flip phone. You open it and see the little screen light up. You go to the menu and open the contacts. You’re surprised to find three names already plugged in.

 

 _Carla Castillo_.

 

 _Nick Fury_.

 

 _Steve Rogers_.

 

“Who...”

 

“They’re with S.H.I.E.L.D. and have helped me since waking up. I trust them enough to tell you to call them under emergency circumstances. Let them know I gave you their contact information. Other than that, I wouldn’t call them.”

 

You chuckle. “Awesome. Good to know. This is definitely a first.” You snap the phone closed. “Thank you, Steve,” you tell him. “I... I’m actually rather surprised. But thank you. This is quite… something, and I seriously appreciate it.” You meet his eyes. “But why? Why go to the trouble? You don’t even... I mean, there’s no... ugh, I don’t even know what I’m trying to say.” You pull at your face with a hand, groaning.

 

Steve removes your hand and takes your cheek in his. “Because I want to give you as much as I can,” he says. “I want to know that you can be safe because you have resources, other than yourself and your abilities. Help should never be something you go without.”

 

You feel tears begin to sting your eyes and quickly blink them away.

 

He says your name softly. “I really like you.”

 

Your heart skips a beat at his words.

 

“You are a wonder in my life. Unique and different and beautiful. I never thought someone would enter my life again that I’d care so much for.”

 

You close your eyes and drink in his words. Your cheek is warm against his palm. Yet your heart is playing tug-of-war with itself. “But, Steve,” you start.

 

Steve shakes his head bringing your eyes back to his. “I know that you will say you are trouble, that it’s bad for me to do this, that to let me in is to bring danger to me. I understand that. I still want in.”

 

You stare at him wide-eyed before dropping your gaze for a moment to think.

 

He shifts his hand to bring up your chin so you’ll meet his eyes again. “Let me have this one thing, Starlight” he says.

 

“What thing, exactly?” you ask.

 

“I want to take you out on a proper date, and I want to get to know you.”

 

You blink at him. “Date?”

 

The corner of his mouth lifts as he nods.

 

 _A date. As in dressing up and having dinner and being a thing, together... romantically_.

 

Steve watches your emotions betray you. He may not know what you are thinking but he sees a giddy grin spread across your lips. He smiles as he listens to a giggle escape you. He can see it, he knows it: you love this idea! You may try to reason yourself out of things, but in the end your heart always wins out. And it gives you away.

 

You finally realize that you’re practically bouncing there with a silly grin on your face as Steve smiles down at you, happy and pleased. Your cheeks go red, and you do your best to restrain yourself again. But it’s not working. You’re squeezing his hands which you don’t remember taking from how happy you are.

 

“So, you’ll let me take you out tonight?” Steve asks.

 

You nod excitedly.

 

“And you’ll tell me about yourself?”

 

You bite you’re lip before nodding again. For all that he’s done, you owe him some of yourself. And now that you know for sure that he likes you, very little will you keep from him.

 

His lopsided smile appears.

 

It makes your stomach flutter. And before you can think it through, you rise on your tiptoes and lay a quick peck on his lips.

 

This leaves him visibly stunned, and you laugh.

 

“Sorry,” you tell him, “I’ll behave now.” You even take a tiny step back.

 

This brings a laugh out of him and gives him reason to relax. This may be new to him but just like always, you’re easy to be around with. He has high hopes for the evening.

 

~*~

 

You check up on the conversation with Tom. You told her about the cellphone and gave her the number for it. She says she’s got it down as a just in case.

 

You hear the bedroom door open and look up to see Steve step out. Your breath escapes you.

 

He’s wearing a pair of dark jeans with a navy blue, button-down shirt tucked into them. The sleeves are rolled up his forearms. He wears no tie so the top button is undone. His black belt and black shoes complete the outfit nicely. There’s an elegant swoop to his short, blond hair. His sky-blue eyes really stand out against his chiseled features.

 

He makes you feel underdressed. You’re wearing the mint day dress with white trimmings. It sits just above your knees. And if your hair didn’t hide it, you’d be able to see the oval opening it has at the back sitting between your shoulder blades. You decided to humor Steve by not wearing your boots but rather the new pair of converse that he somehow convinced you to get. It just so happens that you chose the same mint green, so now your shoes match your dress.

 

You’d definitely call yourself cute, but Steve was undeniably handsome. Hot, even.

 

Steve on the other hand just plain thinks you look amazing, and tells you so.

 

You blush and tuck a stray lock behind your ear. “Thanks. You look great, too,” you reply. You sound lame but you don’t know how to fix it.

 

“Ready?” he asks.

 

You nod and zip up your sling bag. Your new phone is hidden inside with the rest of your things. You grab your coat and follow Steve out. He assists you into his truck then make your way to the restaurant.

 

You get seated quickly enough, and Steve orders wine for the both of you. It tastes wonderful.

 

Steve catches your eye.

 

 _Oh, right_. You owe him information. You take another drink before giving him your full attention. You won’t get drunk but the effects still pass through the body. At least you know you’ll be relaxed if you intake enough, since likely nothing else will happen. “Where do you want to start?” you prompt him.

 

“Have you ever dated before?” he decides to go ahead and ask.

 

You give a half smile. “Yes. I dated one other guy for a long time.”

 

“How long?”

 

“Years. I lost count a long time ago. It wasn’t something I felt the need to keep up with, especially since I knew him a long time before finally dating.”

 

Steve takes care of ordering the food. When he’s done he turns his attention back to you.

 

You fiddle with your glass as you wait.

 

“Will you tell me his name?” he asks.

 

“Why do you want it?” you counter.

 

He chuckles at your challenge and shrugs. “Sense of closure. It’ll make me feel better about this looming presence that I have watching me.”

 

You laugh and roll your eyes. “I’m not comparing, Steve. You don’t need to worry about that. Plus, you’re both very different from one another.”

 

“What’s his name?” he asks anyway.

 

“Layne,” you answer him. “Comes from a wealthy clan of people. They’re born with magic. Life with him was very interesting.”

 

Steve’s golden brows are lifted high.

 

“Yeah, I know,” you say with a scoff. “I kinda just ran into him. I wasn’t seeking out that kind of lifestyle. I’ve learned that I’m not made for such fancy rules and structures. I enjoy my freedom and simplicity too much.” The smile you give him is genuine and open.

 

Steve relaxes back. He’s watched you since you’ve arrived, and he can attest to your words. In a word, you are quaint. You like simplicity. You find the smallest things intriguing, and you find the ordinary fantastic. Somehow you find something worth liking in a broken soldier like himself.

 

The food is brought out, and you both take some time to eat. Everything is delicious.

 

“Do you talk to him through your book, too?” Steve asks after a while.

 

“Oh, _no_ ,” you quickly answer. “No, no, we haven’t talked to or seen one another since we broke up. The journals were a gift from him to me and Thomasin so that she and I could communicate on our travels. He was a very generous person, much like you have been to me.”

 

He pauses a moment. “What happened?”

 

Your mouth twitches. “I vaguely mentioned fighting in a war before. Well, afterwards, I needed to get away to recover and cope and deal with what happened. But I was gone too long. His clan forced him into a marriage they found _suitable_. So, when I came back, his wife was very pregnant with their first child.” You take a long swig of your drink, trying to keep your hand from tapping incessantly. “I guess you can say we broke off our relationship then, mutually and quietly. But once that was over, I left, immediately.” You meet Steve’s blue eyes. “I’m very good at running away. It’s been a couple years now.”

 

Steve understands now why you’ve tried to hold him off, why you still haven’t admitted your feelings to him personally. Your love was stolen from you. It’s one thing for him to lose everyone because of what he did; it’s another thing entirely to have those you love taken away from you with no way for you to do anything about it. He covers your hand with his. “I’m sorry,” he says gently.

 

You take a breath and smile at him. “I know. Thank you.” You take another drink. “Such lovely date conversations,” you try to joke off.

 

He chuckles with you.

 

You lace your fingers with his.

 

“Thomasin is the friend who is currently stuck and can’t come get you, right?” Steve asks.

 

“Yeah,” you scoff. “She’s in New Mexico.”

 

He gives a low whistle. “Long ways off.”

 

“We’ve been further. Right now, we’re doing good to be even in the same country.”

 

“What’s she like?”

 

“She’s awesome!” you state with a grin. “She’s one of the best damn fighters I know. She’s smart and sassy and quick.” You tilt your head as your eyes look over Steve, analyzing.

 

“What?” he asks, matching your tilt.

 

“I think she’d like you eventually.”

 

Steve laughs. “Eventually?”

 

“If you can take what she dishes out and give it back, she’ll take to you.”

 

“Will I get to meet her?”

 

“Umm....” You bite your lip. “We’ll see. I’d like you to meet her.”

 

“But?”

 

“But right now, I don’t know what to expect of our situation. She and our other friend are dealing with some trouble that’s come up. She feels better that I’m here safe and away from it.” The corner of your mouth pulls down.

 

“Will you leave, then?” It’s the question he’d been long pondering but didn’t plan on asking. But it’s out now, so might as well deal with it.

 

You keep from shrugging as an answer, your cheeks warming. “If Tom needs my help, I’ll go to her aid immediately. And I’ll do whatever is needed. But I don’t think I’ll follow her back to where we just came from.”

 

Hope blossoms in Steve’s stomach. “Why not?”

 

“I really don’t fit in. They’re all, like, super tall and fancy, and everything is all shiny and expensive. Plus, Tom is dating a higher up which means balls and feasts and pleasantries and decorum.” You shake your head. “It makes me appreciate Earth so much more.”

 

He’s smiling at you.

 

“Also, if I somehow haven’t completely ruined this date with my sad life, I think I’d like to hang around and... maybe, see where this goes.”

 

The smile broadens. “I think I can manage that.”

 

You laugh your nerves away, simply happy that he hasn’t deserted you yet.

 

“Well, would you like to continue and see what I’ve got planned next? It’s especially catered to you,” Steve says with his lopsided grin.

 

Excitement makes your eyes glitter. “What is it?” you probe.

 

“You have to see for yourself.”

 

“Well let’s go then!”

 

He laughs. “Slow down, Starlight. We still have to pay.”

 

You let out an exaggerated huff. “Fiiine. I suppose I won’t just walk out and steal the meal.” You giggle.

 

Steve rolls his eyes. “You’re a handful,” he tells you, hailing down the waiter.

 

You give him a big grin. “Ya know it!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve Rogers is too handsome for his own good ;)
> 
> Things are picking up! =D


	12. Let's Swing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter in which I mix real life New York things with MCU New York things! I love dancing too much to not put something like this in my writing. ^_^
> 
> Welcome to the world of Swing! ;D
> 
> Also, smut be up ahead. :O
> 
> Enjoy!

The place Steve pulls up at isn’t anything like what you were guessing it to be. Granted, you’ve been given no information so you’ve just been grasping at straws trying to guess where Steve is taking you. But the building is fairly nondescript with a glass door for its entrance. Several people are going inside. Most of the girls are dressed in blouses and skirts, some wear knee-length dresses; but all have some form of flat shoes. Guys wear suspenders, ties, fedoras, all in varying combinations. Simply from observing, you’re trying to figure out if this is a dressy, fancy place or not.

 

“Where are we?” you ask Steve as he opens your door for you. You slide out.

 

“You’ll see,” he answers. “I had to do some research to find this place.”

 

“Wait, you did _research_? Like, _online_ research?” You gape at him.

 

Steve rolls his eyes. “Shut up and get inside.”

 

Giggling, you enter the building and are taken aback by the crowd inside.

 

People clump together catching up. This place obviously holds a close community. Many are changing shoes. Some guys even brought extra shirts.

 

The floors are made of wood, and tall mirrors line the side of one wall. Chandeliers hang from the ceiling, illuminating the room prettily. A table is set up on one end with a trio on their laptops and headphones around their necks. A stereo system sits behind them, and big speakers are mounted in the corners. Everyone looks like they’ve jumped out of a different era.

 

Slowly, as you take it all in, you begin to recognize the times they’re trying to mimic. You tug on Steve’s elbow. “Are they dressed…”

 

“From the 1940s?” he finishes for you, and then nods. “Forties, Thirties, and I take it Fifties, judging from the few styles I don’t recognize.”

 

“Yet all in modern clothing,” you muse. “What is this?”

 

“It’s swing. Swing dancing. A collection of dances that came out of the Twenties through the Forties,” Steve explains.

 

Your eyebrows rise. “You really _did_ do your research,” you marvel quietly. Your eyes roam over the chattering crowd, and you can feel yourself taking on the air of excitement that’s growing. A smile sits on your lips, eyes bright.

 

Steve smiles down at you. “Let’s check in. I think they’re about to start the lesson.”

 

~*~

 

Lindy Hop. A dance that started in Harlem, New York set to old jazz music. A collage of other styles of dances that’s become its own thing. That is what is taught here, and what the two instructors, Lizzy and Ben, tell the newcomers about. Once that is explained, the instructors move the participants into a large circle to start with, and they stand at its center.

 

The instructors quickly explain the two main roles: Leads and Follows. Traditionally, males are leads, and females are follows, but here anything goes. It’s encouraged for everyone to know both parts. For everyone to get a feel for different leads and follows, the leads stay stationary in a circle while the follows keep alternating to the right.

 

They go through the lesson showing how the leads lead, and how the follows follow. Footwork mimics one another. When a lead takes a step back with their right, the follow steps back with their left, as a general way of understanding. It’s based off an 8-count system, though apparently some use a 6-count. Leads direct with their left hand by taking their follow’s right. Everything’s based on bouncing lightly to the rhythm. Stiff legs and arms are frowned upon. All holds and positions are relaxed, the main connections done through the held hands, and how they tug it and direct their feet.

 

Steve didn’t anticipate doing well at all with this but his feet and his body respond as they should to the instructions given. While the serum affected all aspects of his body, he didn’t realize that it truly made him light of foot when needed. His agility and his purposeful control of body suddenly comes back to him.

 

Dancing is very much like fighting. Stances are needed, direction is vital, and control is key. And while a fight is dictated by the rhythm of the punches and dodges between two people, a dance is dictated by the rhythm of the music and the constant contact between the two.

 

Steve is pleased to see how happy you are to learn the dances. You are kind to any lead that works with you, whether they are good or bad. He’s also gotten distracted watching you move expertly as though you already know the dance. He knows you don’t but it makes him wonder.

 

They finish it all off by applying the moves to music, and then declare that the best way to learn how to dance is to dance with anyone and everyone. Practice is the best teacher.

 

Then the social dancing hours begin. Anyone and everyone is free to dance, whether that be Lindy Hop, Charleston, or West Coast.

 

You join up with Steve, smiling grandly.

 

He takes you in his arms.

 

“What do you think?” you ask him. “Now you’ve had your first dance lesson!”

 

He chuckles. “I surprised myself, I’m better than I thought I’d be.”

 

You giggle. “Well then, you better get to practicing! Don’t want to lose what you learned.”

 

His blue eyes smile down at you, accenting the smile on his lips. He pulls apart from you to hold out his hand. “May I?” he invites.

 

You grin and set your palm upon his. “Of course!”

 

“Let’s swing!” Steve leads you onto the busy dance floor and searches for the beat. Once he does, he begins the dance. He’s still amazed by how easily you follow.

 

You love the feeling of dancing again. It’s been so long since you’ve allowed yourself the luxury. It’s always been something you dearly loved doing. You’ve learned all sorts of different dances over the years. Doesn’t matter where you were, who you were with, if there was dancing you were participating.

 

As the song progresses, you start extending your connections. It flows over Steve’s body and links your bodies together. He can feel your movements, and you can feel his. Amazed, Steve suddenly knows your body, and how it relies on his instruction. It gives him confidence and makes it easier to be a good lead.

 

You enjoy your time with him.

 

To Steve’s great disappointment, the song comes to an end.

 

You smile up at him. “You did great!” you compliment.

 

“Thanks to you,” he replies.

 

You shake your head. “I only supplied a slight aid, _you_ did the rest.”

 

Steve watches how your eyes glitter with happiness. A new song begins. “Shall we go again?”

 

“Yes!”

 

You soon grow to understand the beauty of Jazz music. Swing is a very interactive dance style. Sure, your feet are what move you forwards and back, but when you swing out your hand extends, your feet shuffle as you twirl, you follow the basic 8-count rhythm but you embellish it with every flourish and twist. It’s fun!

 

After the song ends, Steve begrudgingly shares you with another lead. You’re amused simply because you feel no better about seeing girls approach him and ask him for a dance as well. He kindly allows it. But from the way you both watch one another, you know there’s nothing to worry about. You dance with others. You dance with each other. You even dance with the instructors. You both have a grand time.

 

Three hours of social dancing goes by fast.

 

Before the night draws to a full close, Steve approaches you, sliding an arm around your waist. “Ready to head home?” he asks in your ear.

 

You nod, thoroughly pleased with your night. “This was the best, Steve. Thank you so much.” You stand on your toes again and plant a kiss on his cheek.

 

Taken aback, Steve’s eyes search the perimeter as if searching to see if someone is watching them.

 

You laugh at his blushing face. “Let’s go.”

 

~*~

 

“For as fit as I am, that really wore out my feet,” Steve comments, putting his keys on the key ring.

 

You chuckle. “It’s good exercise!” you reply. You set your pack on the couch and kick off your shoes and socks. You hear Steve’s footsteps and turn to the approaching soldier. Your eyes appraise him on the way over.

 

He stops a few inches from you.

 

Your eyes move from his chest up to his chiseled jaw, his straight nose, and finally his soft, blue eyes. You feel the urge to wrap your arms around his waist but resist. “So, umm,” you start. “Did you enjoy your first date?” Heat springs to your cheeks.

 

Steve smiles down at you, still amused by your swings of bashfulness. “Greatly,” he answers.

 

You play with a lock of your hair, a smile taking your lips.

 

His eyes search your face, unsure of what to do or say. He’s even more unsure of what _you’ll_ say or do.

 

You should say so much. You should be completely honest with him. You should be vulnerable, open, and willing. This day has been incredible, and you should let him know it. But your mouth doesn’t release any of these things. Your eyes just hold in the tumultuous ocean of thoughts and emotions that are running through. You drink in his own eyes, full of questions and wonders. They make you want to engulf him.

 

“Well, I think I’ll head to bed,” Steve says softly.

 

Your stomach drops, disappointment festering because of your own lack of actions. “Okay,” you respond.

 

“I had a fantastic time.”

 

His smile takes your breath away, so you return it. “Me too. The best in a very, _very_ long time.”

 

He rests a palm against your pink cheek. “Goodnight, Starlight.”

 

A giggle escapes. “Goodnight, Captain.”

 

With eyes alight, Steve heads for his room and closes the door behind him.

 

You let out a breath and press a hand to your forehead. _Oh, I'm an idiot. Fuck! Damn it. Why can't I just... well... anything!_ You plop down on the couch and rub your eyes.

 

The conversation with Loki resurfaces. The story he told you replays in your mind. It’s almost like he planted the scene there.

 

The grand throne room opens up in your mind’s eye. Thomasin is kneeling before the Gold King. The conversation ensues.

 

When one has nothing, they don’t just give up what little they do have.

 

You shake the images out, but the thought cements itself in your heart, like a seed planted. You look over at the door. _I lost it all yet the chance is here. He’s offered to try. He’s willing to give. Will I refuse him simply because of old hurt that isn’t his fault? I can have something - **someone** \- again. Someone who wants me, too_. This can be had.

 

Hope blossoms in your chest, and you feel yourself standing up. “Steve? Steve!” you call urgently. You’re knocking at his door. You want to tell him. You _must_ tell him! You’re practically glowing.

 

The door swings open, and a worried Steve stands before you. “What is it? What’s wrong?” he questions, his blue eyes searching you. He’s barefoot now, and it looks like he just slung his shirt back on.

 

You grip his open shirt and close the space between. “Steve, I really, really like you,” you pour out.

 

Shocked at the unanticipated answer, Steve puts his worry away and waits to hear you out.

 

“I do. I think you are incredible and too damnably handsome. You’re sweet, and kind, and strong, and _so_ good. Life has been hard on you, and yet you’ve grown stronger because of it. Your heart never gave up. You are amazing, and I want to keep you and stay with you.

 

“All of this frightens me so much because of what happened to my last relationship. It’s made it hard to trust myself, much less give me confidence in myself to believe I can even do this again. It’ll always be something I carry. I can’t help that. But I can try; I can try again. If you’re willing to let me try, I want to be with you.”

 

There’s so much that runs through Steve’s mind. But he realizes there’s no need to say any of them. So, he smiles your favorite lopsided smile, knowing that you both understand one another finally. He knows how to accept you.

 

“You know, all I really wanted was the ‘I like you’ part,” he teases, stroking your hair. “But hearing you call me handsome again is nice.”

 

Your face grows hot at the statement. Yet you laugh, no longer able to hold in your nervous tension. “Wait, when did I say it the first time?” you quickly ask, confused.

 

“At the onset of the fever, just before you went under.”

 

You can feel your cheeks growing redder, and you glance away. “I was under the delirium, and I-”

 

“And _you_ , madam, were being honest. The reason I know that is so is because your follow up statement declared my looks unfair.”

 

“Well, of course, it was unfair!” you tell him, meeting his amused blue eyes again. “I fall out of the sky, and a handsome stranger happens upon me?” You shake your head in mock annoyance. “How was I ever supposed to get away from you when you’re so damn hot?”

 

Steve chuckles at the resulting look of shock from your own words. He clasps his hands behind your back. “It’s not like you made it any easier on me. Those leathers shape your form quite nicely.” Heat radiates from his chest, wrapping you up.

 

You laugh and stare at his neck to avoid his gaze. It is then that you realize his shirt is unbuttoned and untucked. Your eyes trail down his neck onto his muscular chest. You slowly press your palms upon it. His flat stomach is defined by the etchings of his abs. Your fingers trail over the defining lines. You can feel the tension in his stomach.

 

He’s holding his breath, and as you run your hands over him, the tighter his muscles grow.

 

You stop and pull your hands back. “Sorry, I shouldn’t-”

 

“No, wait!” Steve quickly exhales as he keeps his hold on you.

 

You search his blue eyes. You can certainly see his desire but you can _feel_ it far more acutely. It draws you to him. Your hands wrap around his neck, and you pull his lips down to meet yours. You kiss him deeply, thrilled to finally get to be here.

 

He responds in kind, marveling at this moment that he thought would never come.

 

Everything within you reaches out for him, latching on, learning him. His own essence receives you and swallows you as well.

 

His hand moves up to the back of your neck while the other stays at the small of your back. He pulls you inside the room, kicking the door close behind you.

 

You move your fingers through his blond hair, savoring him. But you have to pull back to breathe.

 

Steve gasps for air as well. His sky-blue eyes run over every detail of your face, lingering on your lips. He loved the feel of them, how you taste to him. He loves how your body is pressed to his, even though it sends every nerve in his body racing. His thoughts run a million miles per hour.

 

You feel how he wants you. His body, his muscles, his everything wants to claim you. His presence, much like his eyes, roves all over you, wanting. But there is hesitation.

 

“What is it?” you ask.

 

“I’ve never... I don’t know how...” he stutters out, embarrassment filling his face.

 

You smile at him, stroking his cheek. “I can show you.” You watch him carefully.

 

He takes a moment to just watch your eyes. He feels how your bodies are already responding to one another. Steve has never been with someone, but this isn’t just empty desire. Finally, he assents with the incline of his head. He sees how your eyes glitter.

 

You kiss his lips again then slowly leave a trail of them along his strong jaw, down his neck, and onto his muscular chest.

 

Unfamiliar, tingling sensations spreading from his chest make Steve tremble.

 

You move your hands down to his shoulders and push off his dress shirt. It falls to the floor. You keep your eyes on Steve’s face. You run your hands back over his shoulders then down his chest and stomach, your nails leaving a trail on his skin. You work to undo his belt. Your movements are steady and paced. If he wants out, he can tell you to stop.

 

But he doesn’t. He knows now more than ever that he wants this, that he wants you. Steve kisses your lips fervently, taking hold of your waist. He moves down to your neck, his teeth grazing. It makes you gasp, and the sound incites him even more.

 

You undo his pants and tug them down, underwear and all.

 

Steve grabs the skirt of your dress and pulls it up. You hold your arms up to let it come off. He works your undergarments off quickly after.

 

For just a couple of seconds, Steve drinks in the sight of your petite body. He notes the curve of your hip and the dip of your waist but especially the plump shape of your breasts. While you have a flat stomach, he still sees it’s softness. His trained eyes see your hidden scars.

 

All the while your eyes roam over the lines of his body. You see the muscle in his powerful legs. He has biceps to match. Everything about him is strong, hard, and so deliciously inviting.

 

In the next moment, Steve pulls you to him again, his lips covering yours again. His hands move down to your thighs and pick you up.

 

You wrap your legs around his waist, arms around his shoulders. As he moves you to the bed, you tease his jaw with your teeth. You find a place on his shoulder and suck on it. A soft “oh” leaves his lips, and it makes you smile.

 

He lays you down on the covers, he himself coming to rest next to you. He’s afraid of crushing you beneath his weight. Yet with his body still primarily over you, Steve kisses a trail down your chest and onto your stomach, nipping at spots, sucking on others. He listens to how you giggle or moan because of him. When his eyes return to yours, you can read the questions in them.

 

You find his hand and direct it down to your legs. You gasp and your back arches slightly when he grazes your opening with his fingers. You both discover just how wet you are.

 

Intrigued and aroused by this sight and this discovery, Steve seeks to do more.

 

“Slip inside,” you tell him.

 

He maneuvers a finger in, and you moan. He easily discovers how to make you repeat the sound, and he does so eagerly as he moves in and out of you.

 

You grip the covers underneath you, your back arching again.

 

Steve works his mouth up your stomach before latching onto your left breast. He runs his teeth over your nipple before sucking hard on it.

 

“Mmm,” you moan.

 

He moves to the right and gives it a quick bite then sucks on it, too. His hand still moves quickly and hard. It’s makes your thighs clench around his wrist.

 

You pull his face back to yours and hungrily take his lips. Your fingers claw at his broad shoulders. “Enter me,” you growl into his mouth.

 

Steve pulls his hand out as his body moves over yours. You open up to him and with some guidance you feel his hardness slide inside of you. You release his mouth to gasp just as he moans simultaneously.

 

He grips your hair and bites on the hollow of your neck. He begins to thrust.

 

“Oh!” you gasp. “Oh, oh.” You pump against him to his rhythm which is quickly increasing. Your nails dig into his back. You arch further into him.

 

His hips snap against yours, and he growls out your name. His mouth then seeks yours.

 

You’re building quickly, your body tightening around his. “Steve,” you hiss. You fist his hair, every thrust pulling a sound from you. You’re there, back arching, body tight.

 

Finally, he thrusts and bursts within you.

 

“Steve!” you cry out. A wave of light explodes out from you as you release.

 

Then you both slump onto the bed, panting. Together you lay there gathering your breath.

 

You run your fingers through Steve’s soft hair.

 

He turns his face to yours and gives you a kiss. “Is it always this wearing?” he pants out.

 

“I think it’s supposed to be,” you answer with a giggle.

 

Steve huffs out half a chuckle before pushing up. He carefully pulls out of you then lays on the bed.

 

His sudden lack of heat leaves you with a shiver. You roll over to place a hand over his chest and rest your head in the hollow of his shoulder. You keep your body close to his.

 

He kisses your forehead and runs a hand over the side of your body, feeling each curve out. He then pulls at the covers so that you can shimmy your way inside of them. He quickly follows.

 

Once he’s underneath, you lay on your side and press your back into his chest.

 

He wraps an arm around you and holds you close. He places a kiss on the back of your neck.

 

And soon you both drift off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, ya! First time trying that out. Hope it wasn't too shabby!
> 
> Still hope you enjoyed the chapter!
> 
> Shameless plug here: If you're interested in seeing actual Swing danced out click [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uKG-1hzAEpw) and this'll take you to a YouTube video that gives you a fair example of what Lindy typically looks like. Check out other videos to find out more about it, and if you're ever in America be sure to check out the Swing communities all over. It's truly so much fun!


	13. Breakfast Disputes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do remember that Reader tends to have a very spiteful streak... ;D

Steve wakes before you do the following morning.

 

You are curled up with your back nestled into his stomach. You have one arm on top of the covers holding them close to you. Your hair is splayed across your shoulder. You breathe easily, evenly.

 

Steve carefully moves a strand of hair that crosses your cheek. His eyes trace over your features. They’re resting and at peace. While it takes any worry out of your face, it also removes the brightness that comes with your smile. But your cheeks are still soft, your forehead smooth, and your lips settled. He follows the contours that define where the rest of your body is among the sheets.

 

It’s still too early for you to be awake so Steve gently works his way out of the bed and lets you continue sleeping. He uses the restroom, changes into some pants and a tank, then heads into the living room, closing the door behind him.

 

Steve stretches as he walks towards the kitchen. His mind leisurely works through breakfast ideas as he browses through the cupboards. He wonders what you’ll want to do today. Thoughts of yesterday bring a soft smile to his face. The date swims through, the energy of dancing, and then your intimate night together. Warmth fills him.

 

A knock comes from the front door.

 

Steve’s blond brows come together in confusion. Perhaps it’s a neighbor in need of something. It’s been known to happen. Old Mrs. Crane visited him just his second day here asking for a cup of flour. She later returned with a batch of muffins. He makes his way across the living room to open the door.

 

Carla greets Steve with a bright smile. “Good morning, Captain!”

 

“Carla!” Steve near about exclaims from shock.

 

“You forgot, didn’t you?” She rests a manicured hand on her hip.

 

He nods, eyes still very wide.

 

Carla laughs. “That’s alright, I brought breakfast anyway.” She adjusts the straps to the large bag under her arm.

 

“That’s… great,” Steve gets out. His eyes comb over the nurse. He’s never seen her in civilian clothes before.

 

Carla’s dressed in tight, black jeans. She wears a red tank top over a black sports bra. Her straight brown hair hangs about her shoulders prettily, and it’s all pulled together by her red lipstick. “May I come in?” she asks, amused by how lost he currently looks.

 

“O-Of course!” Steve widens the door and steps aside for her.

 

Carla strides in and takes a good look at the living room. Normally she would see a book on the coffee table that Steve’s working his way through. His bedroom door would be open revealing his perfectly made bed, military style. The smell of coffee would fill the open rooms from the kitchen, carried in from the breeze of the open windows.

 

Instead the apartment looks incredibly lived in, and uncharacteristically messy. The coffee table is covered in sketchpads and art materials. A coat is strewn on the couch, some shoes tucked in the space between the couch and the floor. A stack of clothes is set next to the bookshelf. The bedroom door is closed.

 

Carla makes her way to the dining table and sets her bag down. _How strange_ , she thinks. _The Captain is tidy and rarely forgetful. He’s structured yet takes special interest in those around him. Something happened for him to forget so greatly that I was coming_. “Did you host a block party?” Carla asks teasingly. She begins taking dishes out.

 

Steve quickly makes his way over to the kitchen and busies himself with making coffee. “Oh, no, no,” he answers. “I’ve just been, um, busy.” He doesn’t even know how to fix this. How is he going to explain _any_ of it?

 

“Well, I can certainly see that!” Her laughter rings throughout the open area. “May I use your oven for a bit?”

 

“Sure!”

 

Carla turns on the oven and slides her dish in. “Your place makes me believe you’ve actually had company over.”

 

Steve makes a noncommittal sound in his throat and absently wonders how many plates to put out. “Anything I can help with?” he asks instead. His nervousness is causing him to fidget.

 

Carla watches him curiously. “Are you alright, Captain? Did you not sleep well?” she inquires.

 

“No! No, I, uh, actually slept rather well.”

 

She notes the slight pink that appears at his cheeks. She’s starting to grow more and more suspicious that something amiss is up. Carla opens her mouth to reply but comes to a stop.

 

~*~

 

Sounds rouse you from your sleep. You groggily sit up and confusedly look around. You take in the bed and see your clothes strewn across the floor. Your night comes flooding back. Steve and yourself, intertwined with one another. Warmth fills your core but it leaves you with a smile.

 

You rub your eyes, yawning. It’s as you stretch that you feel the resulting aches. Gazing over your body, you find tiny bruises. You’re sorer than you care to be. It’s been years since you’ve been with a man. And you’re reminded of this by the particular soreness between your legs. Oh, but how you’d do it again! You can heal up, thankfully, and a shower will help.

 

You get to your feet and walk over to Steve’s dress shirt. It still smells like him, just like his covers and pillows. You slip it on and button it, rolling up the sleeves to give you access to your hands. _I’ll go see him for a bit then shower_.

 

There’s still strange noises going on beyond the door.

 

You wonder what Steve’s up to as you pull open the door and step out.

 

Carla turns her sharp face to you, her eyebrows coming together.

 

You have a feeling your face is mimicking hers, though you’re _positive_ you are far more confused than she is.

 

“Who are you?” you both say simultaneously.

 

Carla’s question sounds far more accusing than yours does.

 

Doesn’t stop you from eyeing her warily.

 

Neither answers the other. And you both turn to Steve for answers.

 

You can feel his discomfort even from where you stand.

 

“This is my friend, Carla,” Steve tells you.

 

The name rings in your mind but no connection is made.

 

Then Steve turns to Carla, and you can see him deciphering your introduction. “Carla, this is…”

 

“ _Your girl_ , apparently,” Carla finishes, her fine brow arched.

 

You cross your arms, your jaw setting defiantly. “Do you have a problem with that?” you challenge her.

 

Her brown eyes become hard as she stares you down. “That depends,” she answers you, then approaches slowly.

 

You hold your ground.

 

“What are you here for?”

 

You feel your lips thinning. Your eyes scan her over. She’s taller than you, and physically she looks stronger. You know she carries no weapon on her person at the moment but you can feel how she holds herself for attack.

 

Every fiber of her being doesn’t trust you.

 

Your eyes narrow. “If you are implying that I’m here to hurt Steve then I quickly warn you to stop. You don’t understand just how long it took me to even get here. The last thing I intend to do is bring harm to Steve. So, I suggest that you get that out of your mind _now_ ,” you tell her, your voice low.

 

Carla’s red lips twist unhappily. “Why should I trust your word?” she counters.

 

“Why are you so defensive?”

 

“It’s my job.”

 

“Who pays you?”

 

“S.H.I.-”

 

“Ladies!” Steve cries out.

 

You and Carla nearly stand face to face at this point. You both turn to glance up at him.

 

“Can we please just have breakfast?” he practically pleads. His blue eyes keep jumping from each of your faces.

 

You can feel the tightness in his stomach. You feel how he tugs on you to bid his request, to stand down. Something about it seems off to you. You shouldn’t be able to sense so much of him. You technically shouldn’t know what he’s feeling so clearly without creating a physical connection to him, which requires your skin to touch his. This only comes about after forging… an essence link.

 

You take a step back from Carla and rub your eyes, hiding the deep breath you take. _Well… damn it. He forged the connection right under my nose_. You’re impressed. Few can accomplish what he did without it coming to your attention. You’ll have to explain to him what’s happened, but right now there are _other_ things to take care of. You meet Steve’s eyes and give him a smile in surrender. “I take it this was planned before my… arrival,” you say.

 

He nods.

 

“I guess I can leave you to it then.”

 

“But-”

 

“There’s no need for you to leave,” Carla interjects, eyeing you carefully. “Please, join us. I’d love to get to meet the Captain’s new girl.”

 

You check in with Steve. When you receive his nod, you look back at Carla. “Very well,” you say and turn your back to her, heading back into the bedroom.

 

“Where are you going?” she demands, nearly outraged.

 

You pause to glance back at her. “I’m going to change, if you don’t mind,” you answer sweetly, wearing a smile to match your tone.

 

Carla quickly composes herself. “Right. Well, we’ll see you in a moment.”

 

You give her a polite tilt of your head then close the door behind you. Once alone you let out a frustrated huff. _Who the hell is that woman to challenge my relationship with Steve?_

 

~*~

 

Carla swivels towards Steve, who just watches her silently. She strides back to him. “You, Captain, have a lot of explaining to do,” Carla sounds out for him

 

 _When **don’t** I with your gender_ , Steve asks himself. “Let me fry up some bacon to go with your casserole,” he offers starting up the stove, his hands moving quickly. “I have some fruit as well. Your coffee will be ready soon.”

 

“I sure hope you brewed it extra strong today.”

 

“Me too.”

 

At the sound of the door opening, Steve and Carla look up.

 

You exit the bedroom wearing your mint dress once more, barefoot. Your hair is braided back into a single plait. You’ve washed up and look awake, refreshed. Color marks the edge of the dress’ neckline.

 

As Steve realizes that he’s the one that left those on you, he’s taken aback as a wave of bashfulness takes him. But there’s something else there, too. It makes him feel _possessive_ of you. It’s a foreign feeling. He just got you, and he’s not about to let you go. Yet as stunning as Steve finds you in your simplicity, the smile on your face worries him. It gives you a mischievous edge.

 

You walk up straight to him, broadening your smile for him.

 

He smiles back, broad shoulders easing.

 

“Good morning, hot stuff,” you say and take a hold of his hips as you stand on your toes to kiss his lips.

 

It’s a good thing, too. Steve wouldn’t have known how to respond.

 

Carla gives you points for audacity.

 

You return to your feet, smiling up at your handsome fellow. “Can I help with something?” you ask.

 

Carla is taking her casserole out of the oven, and Steve is finishing up the bacon.

 

“Could you set out some fruit and put the bacon on the table? I’ll serve everyone their coffee,” Steve says after gathering his wits.

 

“Sure thing!” You grab a bowl and work on the fruit. You move the bacon onto a covered plate then set both on the table. You decide to open the windows to let in the morning breeze.

 

Simply to add to the air of the event, Steve turns on some music to fill the background. Honestly, he’s probably doing it to calm his nerves, but everything is ready. “Ladies,” he calls. He pulls out Carla’s seat for her then moves to pull out yours and helps you in. He finally takes his own seat. Ever the gentleman, Steve offers to serve your plates.

 

“So, Carla, what is your occupation?” you ask as you pass her the fruit bowl after serving yourself some.

 

“I am a nurse,” she answers and passes the bacon to Steve.

 

“Really? For how long now?” You blow on your mug of coffee, sweetened to a lovely, light brown color.

 

“Nearly ten years.”

 

Your eyebrows rise as you sip on the hot drink. She looks to be around 25 or 26 maybe, definitely no older. “That’s awesome. I’ve grown up being a healer myself.” You take some bites of the breakfast casserole. It’s delicious.

 

“‘Healer.’ That’s not a very common term heard these days.” Carla sips on her coffee. “Where are you from?”

 

“No place in particular,” you say casually. “I travel too much.”

 

Carla nods and finishes what she has in her mouth. “So how did you come to land here in New York?”

 

Steve eats quietly and watches the interaction.

 

“Well I was originally headed for one of the other ‘New’ states and missed,” you answer amused.

 

 _Missed by a lot_ , Steve mentally adds, the corner of his mouth quirking.

 

Carla looks confused for a moment. _Interesting, since Coulson is in New Mexico dealing with strange intruders_. “What were you aiming to do there?” she questions.

 

You finish your bite of food. “I was going to meet up with some friends of mine there to help them out with a project they took on.”

 

“Must be quite the project to call in help. What kept you here then? Surely by now you would’ve continued on to meet with your friends.”

 

You meet the hidden critical look in her eyes with a pleasant smile. “Oh, I would’ve been there in the blink of an eye if I hadn’t fallen ill,” you say.

 

Carla’s prim eyebrows rise. “Oh?” She takes a long sip of her coffee.

 

You can see her mind working through her eyes. You’ve learned to read people very well aside from using your abilities. You know she’s searching for something. It’s not common for most to take these vague answers without questioning them for specificity. She doesn’t seem to need the details, and that makes you wonder what she knows.

 

“Yes, a bad spell came over me, putting me down for a long time,” you tell her. “Were it not for Steve here, I’m not sure where I’d be right now.”

 

Steve smiles bashfully.

 

Carla smirks slightly. “The Captain does have a thing for saving people,” she notes, turning her eyes on him.

 

He chuckles and shrugs. “Not in a very long time, technically,” he replies.

 

Your head tilts at Carla. _She knows about his past_. Some part of your mind tells you that you already know that bit of information but you can’t remember why or how you know that. “What hospital do you work at, Carla?” you probe.

 

“I don’t work through a hospital but an agency,” she replies smoothly.

 

“Oh, how interesting! What kind of agency?” You see her working through her answer even as she gives it.

 

“It’s a special agency, one that specializes in offering the people protection from outside threats. I help see to any injuries we come across.” Carla’s brown eyes meet yours.

 

And then it dawns on you the way it should’ve the moment you heard her name. You should’ve remembered why you recognized it. _Carla Castillo_. The contact in your phone. A person that Steve trusts to help you out in emergencies. One of the people that works for S.H.I.E.L.D. – which you’ve just now come to realize is a _government_ agency.

 

Your head snaps to Steve. “You’re a _ward_ of the government?” you fire at him.

 

He grimaces and runs a hand through his hair before bringing himself to answer you. “Yes,” he admits quietly. “I am a charge of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s.”

 

You stare at him, mouth agape. “Steve, that’s horrible!”

 

Offended, Carla buts in. “Excuse me?”

 

Your eyes cut to her, anger filling you. “Carla, do you know what a ‘charge’ is? It means being under someone’s thumb. That’s not freedom; that’s not living on your own. That’s being watched and monitored and told how to live your life, and worst of all it’s by the government!”

 

“What do you have against the government, foreigner?” Carla challenges. “What have you done to hate them so much?”

 

You glare at her. “What have _I_ done? Shouldn’t _you_ be asking yourself that? Shouldn’t you be asking what the government has done to make me hate them? What has the government done for Steve? What have _you_ done for Steve?”

 

Carla’s face is tight with anger. “We’ve given him his life back. We’ve provided for his needs. We’ve seen to his health. We’ve kept him safe.”

 

“From what? People? You haven’t done any of those things; you’ve made him a pet goldfish in a little round bowl to stare at and keep alive. Sure, you’ve given him a home and provisions, but how have you taught him to live life? You haven’t. You left him! You’ve given him nothing to help with his past, his struggles. I’ve taught him more about your world in the brief time I’ve been here than you have in the past months.

 

“You don’t just pluck someone out of the ocean then just leave them to fend for themselves in a foreign place. That’s not how you care for someone. You wonder why I hate the government so much? Because I’ve yet to see any form of it decently take care of its people. They’re so much better at fucking things up for everyone.”

 

Steve calls your name.

 

It startles you. And as you turn to look at him, your attention is caught by your fists, which are trembling on the table, glowing from your anger. You quickly remove them and hide them in your lap. Fire fills your cheeks and neck.

 

Carla is stunned silent, a rare thing. She doesn’t know what to focus on. She just saw light emanating from your hands; yet she also just heard you make a harsh point about her job, and S.H.I.E.L.D. in general. On top of it all, she witnessed your genuine care for the captain. She’s still not sure how much she trusts it but she felt your anger press itself upon her.

 

“Starlight, neither S.H.I.E.L.D. nor Carla have treated me ill in any way,” Steve explains, setting his hand gently on your shoulder.

 

“I hope not,” you tell him. “It wouldn’t be right for them to, for as good of a man as you are.”

 

He gives your shoulder a squeeze.

 

“Captain Rogers is treated with the upmost respect,” Carla states.

 

Your eyes glide over to her but say nothing.

 

“I should be heading out soon but I have a message to deliver to you, Captain,” Carla says turning to Steve. She reaches down into her bag and pulls out a sealed envelope. She hands it to Steve. “It’s an invitation to Mr. Stark’s showcasing party Friday night.”

 

“Why would I be invited?” Steve asks, his brows furrowing. “We don’t know one another. I doubt there’s reason for us to.” He tears open the letter and reads the invitation. It’s written in neat cursive, signed Pepper Potts.

 

“Fury insists that you go.”

 

Steve frowns. “He’s making me go.”

 

“He suggested taking a date with you. If you had no one available, I was going to volunteer.” Carla’s eyes flit to you. “But I think you might enjoy taking your girl to the party. It’ll be a rage, I hear.”

 

You raise an eyebrow, saying nothing.

 

“What’ll happen if I refuse?” Steve asks.

 

Carla shrugs. “It won’t really bother Fury. It might disappoint Mr. Stark.”

 

“Might serve him well to experience that.”

 

You scoff.

 

Suddenly both sets of eyes are on you.

 

“What do you think?” Steve asks you.

 

You take in his honest, sky-blue eyes. You give him a half-smile. “I think a party would be fun,” you answer. “Gets us out of the house for a while, plus we can take part of all his luxuries if just for a few hours. But, honestly, do what you want. If you don’t want to go, don’t go.”

 

Steve doesn’t like the idea of even being around Tony. He certainly doesn’t want to come face-to-face with his arrogance. The letter makes him wonder what Tony and Miss Potts know about him. But he knows he won’t get answers out of either Carla or Fury. So, if he wants to know something, he’s going to have to be there to find out himself. On a brighter note, he can make a date out of it and at least look forward to taking you out again.

 

Steve pulls out of his thoughts and addresses you both. “We’ll be there,” he states.

 

You chuckle at his decision. You didn’t expect him to accept the invitation but you’re excited that he did.

 

Carla smiles. “Perfect!” She stands and begins gathering her things. “I’ll come back early that evening to help your lady get ready.”

 

Your head snaps to her. “Whoa, what?” you exclaim.

 

She eyes you critically. “Is that the nicest thing you have?”

 

“Um, yeah?”

 

She shakes her head. “Won’t do. I’ll bring you something befitting a Stark event.”

 

You roll your eyes. _Wait, what the hell does that even consists of?_

 

Carla starts making her way to the door.

 

Your eyes roam over her fashion style. Unlike her, you don’t do _tight_. “Fine, whatever,” you finally say. “But do me a favor?”

 

She glances over her shoulder at you, listening.

 

“Please choose something of class. Don’t even think of dressing me like a skank. Because I will change back into this dress.”

 

Carla’s laugh rings in the room as she saunters to the door. “There’s no need to worry, foreigner. I would never embarrass the Captain in such a manner.”

 

~*~

 

“ _Hello?_ ”

 

“Agent Coulson,” Carla says into her phone’s speaker. “I have some news for you.”

 

“ _Fire away._ ”

 

“I think I found a companion to your foreigners.”

 

“ _So you’re sure it was another person?_ ”

 

“It has to be. She’s not… normal. And she’s only appeared here within the timeline.”

 

“ _How are you sure of that?_ ”

 

“I just came from breakfast with her and the Captain. He’s given her shelter since her arrival.”

 

“ _Really?_ ”

 

“They’re lovers.”

 

“ _Huh! That’s a fascinating conundrum we have, isn’t it?_ ”

 

“Quite.”

 

“ _Has she shown to be any kind of dangerous?_ ”

 

“Not that I can see. She can do some strange things but I don’t know to what extent that looks like. Since she’s been here there’s been no kind of disturbances. But, sir, he _really_ likes her. The way he watches her, even the way he _is_ attests to it.”

 

“ _You don’t trust her._ ”

 

“Not yet.”

 

“ _But he’s safe?_ ”

 

“As of right now.”

 

“ _Good. That’s the goal. Monitor the situation and let me know if anything comes up._ ”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“ _Keep up the excellent work._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve has such great luck with awkward women situations, don't you think? lol


	14. A Wish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stories, sweetness, and smut ^w^

You spend the next half hour cleaning up the table, washing dishes, and putting things away in the kitchen with Steve. Music still plays in the background. The warm breeze fills the rooms. When everything is done, you dry your hands on a towel.

 

Steve has been watching you quietly since the nurse left. Even now he smiles upon you.

 

Emotional wear and bodily exhaustion settles on you. You glance up at Steve and give him a lazy smile. “Could I borrow your bed for just a moment?” you ask him.

 

His brows jump in surprise at the strange question. “Sure,” he answers.

 

You turn and walk into the bedroom, leaving the door open behind you.

 

All Steve hears is you falling on the bed and groaning as though you have a terrible stomachache. He quickly follows you into the room and finds you strewn face down on the bed with a pillow hiding your head. “Are you alright?” Steve asks concerned.

 

You shake your head in reply. Your arms move to further hide your face beneath the pillow.

 

Steve comes to sit next to you on the bed. “What’s wrong, Star?”

 

“That was awful,” you cry. “I was a terrible person. I didn’t mean to get so explosive. I’m sorry!” You let out a pitiful whimper.

 

Steve removes the pillow from over your head then lies down right beside you. He works around your arm to move the hair from your face.

 

You finally meet his precious, sky-blue eyes. There is no anger or disappointment in them, simply care.

 

He strokes your cheek. “What happened?” he asks seriously. And he's not referring to the breakfast thing.

 

You take a deep breath before taking hold of his hand. You play with his fingers. “I was kidnapped as a child,” you start, “given something to forget my past, and taken far away. There was an organization that would target people, children, that might have powers or special abilities. They would exploit the power then take it away from them, or do other nasty things to take control of that power.

 

“They took me to this place. It was all white, sterile, and always _so_ cold. It looked like a hospital mixed with a science lab. They ran experiments on me to probe my power. It’s common for power to lie dormant until puberty, and much like puberty, once it starts coming out, it’s very volatile at first, or can be at least. It makes one vulnerable and easy to attack.

 

“One day they pushed me too far, and I hit survival mode. My power saved me, and then I fled from them. I spent years running, trying to find Thomasin. The Ordinat had already taken to spreading across worlds. They would infiltrate governments and military. They hid amongst them then did their bidding under everyone’s noses. In the end, they brought a war to us in my home world.”

 

Flashes flood your mind, and you shake them away. “They created horrible instruments. One of which was a poison gun. It shot darts, and once the poison entered your system, it turned your abilities into mush, rendering one… human – powerless, more like. It didn’t take them away but it made using them nearly impossible without nasty side effects.”

 

“Would that poison affect me, do you think?” Steve asks.

 

You nod, a frown tugging at your lips. “It would attack the serum in your body. It would revert its effects and turn you into an average man. No extra strength, no extra running, no special ability outside of your normal human capacities,” you tell him.

 

He takes that information in. “You speak of them in the past tense; are they gone?”

 

“They should be. We just got rid of the last leader just some months ago. The leaders and, along with them, a slew of their followers.” You shrug. “Some fanatics might still roam about, but the bases are gone. Some of their technology still hangs around so people might run into it. Hopefully they won’t.”

 

“If they do?”

 

“Then pray to the gods they don’t figure out how to use them. We’ve been very thorough for the most part, burning everything once they’re gone. But this last take out came with a lot of wreckage. We never went back to see it properly disposed of.”

 

Steve watches you quietly, his hand still playing with yours. “You had a hard life,” he states softly.

 

You give him a tired smile. “I did,” you reply. “It’s alright.”

 

“Is it? How do you smile about it?”

 

“Well, it just is. Sure, that was the hand I was given but I didn’t let that stop me from living a life. I got to see so many unusual places, meet all sorts of people, and experience wonders. I made friends, I’ve had love, and I know what it’s like to have a home. These are all good things, and I treasure them even more because of the hardship that surrounded them.”

 

Steve smiles at you and rubs his thumb over your hand. “What am I keeping you from?” he asks seriously.

 

You shake your head against the bed. “Nothing.”

 

“Not even your friends?”

 

You shake your head again. “No, because that’s not on you. That’s my doing and my decision. Plus it's not like you've taken access to them away from me. I can still reach them.”

 

“Are you alright with it?”

 

You nod, assured of yourself. “I am capable of being a frighteningly powerful being. I come from a world where just about everything is trying to harm you. And I’ve been running for a long time.”

 

Steve watches your face. “So, _this_ is your choice?”

 

You nod again, slowly bringing a smile to your face again. “I choose to be here, on plain, ol' Earth for its simplicity. Be around ordinary human beings in a city that’s too loud, too crowded, and too busy for its own good. Staying with a captain who doesn’t know how to run away from trouble.”

 

He smiles broadly. “I surely don’t.”

 

You laugh, your stomach fluttering.

 

Steve reached over and slides you to him. He strokes your hair as he holds you to his chest.

 

Your legs intertwine with his. You tuck your head under his chin and savor his warmth. You breathe in his scent. You rest with him.

 

“You’re not leaving?” he asks softly.

 

“Not unless you ask me to,” you answer.

 

He hugs you tightly, and you slip an arm around him to return the gesture.

 

“You need someone to take care of you just as much as I do,” you tell him.

 

“I know. But I didn’t think someone would come around and _want_ to.”

 

“Oh, dear heart.” You pull back to see his face. You place both hands on his cheeks.

 

Steve’s blue eyes trace your features. His blond hair droops on his forehead. His broad chest encompasses you. “I made a wish that night that you fell as a star,” he admits aloud, both to himself and to you.

 

You’re surprised to hear that. “Really? What did you...” You realize it’s rude to ask.

 

“For a companion,” he answers anyway. “Someone who would understand my past and still stick around. I wanted a friend to relate to.” His eyes glisten with unshed tears.

 

You run your fingers through his hair soothing him. “Was it granted?”

 

“Yes! I got more than I asked for. I got you, and that has been the most amazing gift since I’ve been back.”

 

Before you can even finish smiling, his lips are on yours. You kiss him deeply, with everything that you feel for him. And you can feel his return, how he wraps you up in himself, protecting you. It feels incredible to feel safe with someone again.

 

Steve gently rolls on top of you. He breaks the kiss to breathe. “You are breathtaking, truly,” he tells you.

 

You giggle. “Why thank you!” you tease, attempting a hair flip, and then giggle again.

 

His hand slides along your thigh as he presses kisses along your collarbone.

 

You close your eyes, relishing in his touch. He feels wonderful against you but you have other plans. With your arms on his shoulders and your legs around his hips, you twist him over until you’re on top, straddling him.

 

Steve stares up at you a little thunderstruck.

 

You place your hands on his chest then tease his jaw with your nose. “I was actually _really_ hoping to get a shower,” you tell him.

 

“Oh,” he stutters out. “O-Okay.”

 

Smiling, you climb off him and make your way to the bathroom.

 

Steve sits up and, whether he realizes it or not, a look of pure disappointment takes a hold of his brows and mouth.

 

You laugh as you reach the threshold.

 

It makes him look up at you.

 

“You know, you _could_ join me,” you tell him. And to give him more incentive, you pull your dress off then let it drop to the floor. You disappear into the bathroom only in your underwear.

 

Now he’s truly struck dumb.

 

The water in the shower comes on.

 

“Coming?” you call out.

 

The question brings Steve to his feet. He enters the bathroom to find you completely naked as you pull back the curtain. His eyes roam over the curves of your body, drinking in the smoothness of your skin. It makes him hard.

 

You give him a wink then step inside the tub and pull the curtain closed.

 

Steve finally laughs, amused by how easily you're reeling him in. He undresses and follows you into the shower.

 

You’re standing beneath the waterfall washing your face. Your hair clings to your back, and the water trails down your body. Light pours from your hands and pools with the running water. It travels over your body touching up on the bruises and at the soreness between your legs. You call it off quickly enough.

 

You pull back from the water and turn to face Steve. “Hello, Captain,” you greet with a smile on your face.

 

“Hello, Starlight,” he replies, eyes on you.

 

You wrap your arms around his neck and maneuver him so that the warm water falls on his back. You move the water to get his chest wet, running your hands down to his stomach. Your fingers graze his hardness, toying, stroking.

 

Steve sucks in a breath.

 

You love watching his body grow tight, tight with pleasure and wanting. Kneeling and grasping his thighs, you take him into your mouth and suck.

 

He frantically puts a hand on the shower wall, and the other at your hair.

 

You run your tongue over his length, teasing. Your teeth nip at his tip causing Steve to groan from the back of his throat. You take him whole again and suck him good.

 

Steve grips your hair hard as he lets out a sound of pleasure.

 

You tease him with your teeth again before releasing him and returning to your feet.

 

He breathes hard. “Damn it, woman,” he huffs.

 

You giggle. “What?” you ask innocently, kissing him.

 

He takes you into his arms as yours wrap around his neck again. His hands move down your back till they reach your romp. He squeezes to hear you squeal, and he’s rewarded greatly. Then he uses them to turn you around.

 

You tilt your neck to the side as Steve kisses you. His hands go to your breasts and begins fondling them, eventually pinching the nipples. You keep your hands up around his neck, hanging on to him.

 

Steve moves a hand down your body until it reaches your legs. He makes you spread them slightly which allows his hand entrance.

 

You are wet from want. Your breath hitches when you feel him enter you, your fingers tightening around his hair.

 

He starts moving in you, slowly at first. His other hand still at your breast, holding you close to his warm chest.

 

Water still courses down your bodies.

 

Steve nips at your ear, then at your jaw, then at your neck. He starts moving faster, sliding a second finger in.

 

You grip his hair as your body tries to arch against him, moaning.

 

He moves hard and deep.

 

“Oh, _fuck_ , Steve!”

 

Steve removes his hand and spins you around. He claims your mouth with his, his tongue immediately pushing through. His hands return to your ass where he picks you up.

 

You wrap your legs around his waist and feel your back press against the shower wall. You kiss hungrily down his jaw and neck, your hands roaming over the muscles of his back.

 

His mouth sucks hard at your nipple.

 

“Fuck me, already,” you hiss.

 

Steve finds your opening and slides within you. He starts thrusting as he keeps you pinned to the wall.

 

You bite his shoulder as he moves faster and harder, moans escaping your throat. One hand fists his hair, and the other claws his back. You’re building quickly.

 

He calls your name, and then with a final thrust, he finishes inside of you.

 

Your body clenches around his, receiving him, crying out.

 

It leaves you both panting.

 

When Steve is steady again, he eases out of you and gently places you back on your feet.

 

You move your arms to hug his chest and rest against him.

 

He tilts your chin up so you’ll receive his kiss. He leaves another at your forehead then hugs you close. After a moment, he moves you back into the water.

 

You laugh as you wet your hair again.

 

Steve grabs the shampoo and squeezes some onto his hand. He takes your hair and starts working the shampoo in. He scratches your scalp which feels marvelous. Very methodically, he proceeds to wash the rest of you.

 

When he finishes, it’s your turn to wash him. You spoil and tease him as you do.

 

Once he’s rinsed off, Steve steps out of the shower. He hands you a towel and takes one for himself.

 

You wrap yourself up in yours and work on squeezing the water out of your hair. You dry yourself then step out of the shower, towel once more wrapped around your body.

 

The door to the bathroom is open.

 

You step outside and find Steve standing in his room, towel about his waist.

 

He seems to be taking in the sunlight. He feels good, and he’s taking it all in.

 

You step up to him and hug him from behind, your hands on his chest. You hear him speak your name, and everything inside you soars. You come around to face him.

 

Steve caresses your face. His eyes gaze over you. He presses his lips to yours, and you give into him. He removes your towel and his, and carries you to the bed.

 

Together, you make love to one another.

 

This time Steve is spent. He drifts off to sleep with an arm around your waist.

 

You listen to him breathe and let yourself rest curled up against him. You don’t nap like he does so after a while you slide away and walk into the living room. You find a new set of clothes and get dressed for the day. You grab your bag and pull out the journal, taking a seat on the couch.

 

There’s a message from Tom, a whole paragraph really.

 

But one sentence sends your stomach plummeting.

 

_One of the monsters is coming for you!_


	15. Trouble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys, sorry it took me so long to post this! I really didn't mean for that to happen. Life just got busy.
> 
> But, anyway, I hope you enjoy! Lots of new things happening!

You can’t get Tom’s message out of your mind. One of those horrendous monsters is coming for you. It’s coming to New York. _What am I going to do when it gets here?_ Your mind spends the rest of the day mulling over the question. You need to find a solution before that _thing_ arrives and starts tormenting the city.

 

You’re happy when Steve wakes up and joins you again. It gives you a distraction, a far more pleasant one. You don’t tell him anything and try to let yourself enjoy the rest of your lazy day with Steve. At one point, he decides to read to you, so you get to lie back and listen. You absently pay attention even though your thoughts keep wandering.

 

Steve can see that your mind is at work. Throughout the day, you’ll be lost in your thoughts, your face in deep concentration. But he doesn’t ask what you’re thinking through. He hopes you’ll bring it up when you’re ready.

 

When night falls, you truly let yourself get caught up in him. He is your world, and with him you sleep through the night. It keeps the dreams at bay.

 

~*~

 

The next morning you wake to Steve’s shuffling. You roll over to face him and snuggle under his chin.

 

His chest rumbles as he holds you. One hand plays with the hem of your pajama shirt. He slides underneath it to run his fingers over your back. His chest radiates warmth.

 

You’re tired, and it’s much too early to be awake, but you love the feel of him so close. Your own fingers trace the curve of his neck.

 

“You’re awake awfully early this morning,” Steve comments in a quiet voice.

 

You grumble something.

 

He kisses your shoulder. “Want to get up for breakfast?”

 

More grumbling. You snuggle further into him.

 

Steve laughs. “Apparently not.”

 

He keeps holding you close, and incidentally you manage to doze off again. The next time you wake up, it’s to the smell of food. You pull yourself out of bed to go join Steve in the main area. Breakfast is a pleasant event. Coffee helps you wake up, and with waking your mind returns to its problem. It leaves an unpleasant knot in your stomach.

 

As Steve settles to work in his sketchpad, you sit next to him on the couch, fiddling with your shirt. You restlessly fidget next to him.

 

You grab your bag and pull out your journal and pen. At first you play with the pen, not really knowing what to do with it. Eventually, without realizing it, you pull out the long piece of twine you keep in the bag. Your fingers go to town on it, working out your tension through it. You pull and twist and yank. This allows your mind to focus some, now that your body has something physically distracting it.

 

You check your journal but there’s no update from Tom. Your eyes just roam over the drawing she made of the creatures, committing it to memory.

 

Steve says your name.

 

It startles you out of your thoughts. “Yeah?” you reply meeting his eyes.

 

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

 

You sigh. You can’t keep hiding this. And in all honesty, you don’t want to. “Something is coming to get me,” you admit aloud to him.

 

Concern immediately enters his eyes. “What do you mean?”

 

You show him the sketch of the hellish dog that Tom drew. “One of these is making its way to New York City at this very moment. And it’s looking to find _me_.”

 

Steve’s brows furrow. “When did you find out?”

 

“Yesterday. It’s coming from New Mexico. Some creep set these things on my friends there, and now he’s sent one my way.” You rub your eyes, groaning. This wasn’t a problem you were originally anticipating.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” he asks, urgency in his voice.

 

You start tugging at the twine again. “Because I didn’t want to worry you,” you tell him.

 

“How can I not worry when something like that has been set on you? What were you going to do when it got here? Fight it yourself?”

 

“Yeah! I was!” you shout frantically.

 

Steve brings himself to pause, realizing that he’s the one currently putting you on edge. His eyes take in your anxiety-filled features: your wide eyes, your fingers yanking on the twine, and your tight posture. He relaxes on your behalf and cups your cheek in his hand to make you look at him, an apology in his eyes. “You don’t have to do this alone,” he assures you.

 

“I know but I was trying to avoid this. Avoid bringing you any harm.”

 

“I think that regardless of your knack for trouble that would’ve been impossible for you to manage. By accepting you, I accepted this. I’m not leaving you to face this on your own. It wouldn’t be right of me.”

 

You sigh and press against his hand. “I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t be,” he assures you. “We will take care of this.”

 

You feel like you can breathe more easily with his confidence. “Alright. But I need to train again. I haven’t done anything to keep me up to par with my skills since I’ve gotten here.”

 

“That’s easy enough. We can go to the gym this afternoon.” He’ll finally get to see how you fight. The thought is exciting to him.

 

“Oh? Well that could work. So long as there’s space to move around freely.”

 

Steve nods. “It’s old boxing gym, not many people go. The owner and I’ve become good friends.”

 

“That’s nice!” You’re finally at ease again. You glance down at your hands and see how you’ve wound the twine between your hands. You frown. _I shouldn’t be playing with this_. You go to grab your bag.

 

“What is that?” Steve asks.

 

“Umm, well, it’s twine,” you answer.

 

“But?”

 

“But it’s also something else.” You unwind the twine and stretch it back out. It’s very ordinary, nothing flashy to it. Just brown twine.

 

Only then does Steve notice how it’s one piece tied together to create a circle the length of your arm. “Magic?” he questions.

 

You nod slowly wishing you hadn’t pulled it out. You wrap it up properly and stuff it in your bag.

 

Steve’s smart eyes fall on your little pack. The thing you keep on you anytime you leave the apartment. “What else do you carry?” he dares to ask.

 

You sigh and reach in. “Twine, a necklace, the journal and pen combo, a bracelet, and now the cellphone you gave me.” You set the items out on the coffee table. “Those three,” you point to the twine, necklace, and journal, “are all laced with magic – all gifts that I could keep. The bracelet was from Tom. She found it on one of her trips. The stone has an etching on it. She said the symbol represented water, so she thought of me.”

 

Steve holds up the necklace that holds a blue gem for a pendant. “I take it the magical items were all from your past beau?”

 

You nod. “He liked giving gifts. He made the necklace. The twine… well… how do I explain this? It’s a weapon in disguise. The twine is actually a cover for it. Were I to summon it, it would transform.”

 

“Interesting.” Steve eyes the twine. He tries to imagine how something so thin and weak could possibly turn into a weapon. “Do you still… _use_ any of them?”

 

You shake your head. “Just the journal, to communicate with Tom. That’s it. I kinda forsook the weapon with the break up. Haven’t used it since.” You give a small shrug. “I just can’t quite bring myself to let go of them. But they live hidden away.”

 

Steve hands you the twine and necklace and watches you pack everything away again. When you’re done, he pulls you close and kisses your lips. His fingers run through your hair.

 

“Sorry,” you apologize after he pulls back. “I’m just sentimental.”

 

He smiles. “I am, too. No need to worry about it.”

 

You fall into his embrace and rest in him.

 

Steve means every word but it also makes him consider gifts, sentimentality. The one sentimental token he had of Peggy was lost in the crash. Currently he almost considers the paints a token from you, even though you didn’t directly get them for him. But he’s grown to associate them with you. He wants to give you something, and not just a phone for security, but an actual gift. Something you can keep in your little bag with you always, regardless of circumstances.

 

~*~

 

You take a glance at the old gym from the passenger’s seat of the truck. The place is noticeably old, just as Steve said. You get out and follow Steve inside.

 

A man with leathery skin and a balding head comes out. “Is that you, Rogers?” he asks, wiping his hands on a towel hanging at his hip.

 

Steve smiles at the old man. “Sure is,” he replies jovially.

 

The man laughs as he approaches. “I was starting to think you’d given up on me.”

 

“I could never.” Steve clasps forearms with the man.

 

He glances past Steve’s shoulder and spots you. “Now, who’s this little lady?”

 

Steve holds an arm out to draw you closer. “Richie, this is my girl,” Steve introduces, and then tells the man your name.

 

You’re caught off guard by hearing him claim you so. But it feels good, and it sounds nice. You hold out your hand to the older man, smiling. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you greet.

 

Richie enfolds your hand in his. “The pleasure is mine. So,” he says looking back up at Steve, “what are you doing around here?”

 

“We came to work out,” Steve answers.

 

Richie’s gray brows rise as he looks at you. “Even you, little missy?”

 

You nod. “I have a training junkie for a best friend. I can’t let myself get behind,” you say with a chuckle.

 

The man laughs. “Well, alright! The back room is open. Let me know if you need anything.”

 

Steve nods and leads the way towards the back.

 

“Oh, Rogers,” Richie calls, “try not to break any of my punching bags, will ya?”

 

Steve salutes the man then enters the back room.

 

You gaze around at the old boxing gym.

 

Hooks hang from the ceiling for punching bags to hang from. The small individual bags are already set up around the room. There’s an empty, open area in the center of the room where the boxing ring once stood. There’s other training equipment stowed in the corners of the room: jump ropes, mats, weights, and more.

 

“How many bags have you destroyed?” you ask curiously.

 

“Too many,” Steve answers simply. He turns to you, hands on his narrow hips. “So, what do you want to do?”

 

You face him. “Spar. Trouble is coming, and I need to be able to fight. I’ve been too latent. Need to fix that.”

 

Steve moves to his left, slowly. He watches your form. “You know I’m not letting you do this alone, right?” he asks.

 

You circle the arena with him. “I can still try to convince you otherwise,” you counter.

 

“It won’t work.”

 

You know it’s true; you’ve already had this discussion. But still.

 

You want to argue, to convince him that it’s a bad idea for him to get caught up in this. But what are you going to say to a man who has fought before, a man who has solely focused on your safety since you’ve arrived? You’re going to tell him to stay away when the monster comes? No, that’s not happening. So, you resign yourself to the fact that he’ll likely be around.

 

A tiny smile appears on Steve’s lips. “Given up yet?” he teases.

 

You roll your eyes and shift your stance. “Whatever. Just fight me,” you retort.

 

He cocks his head in an “alright” motion. He holds up his hands, motioning for you to come at him.

 

You bolt for him. Just before reaching him, you flip over.

 

Steve swerves in time to block your kick, grabbing hold of your ankle. “Well you’re fast,” he comments with a scoff. He knocks you away.

 

You chuckle. “What I lack in build I make up for in speed and agility,” you tell him.

 

“Show me.”

 

You spend the next two hours going back and forth with him. You try something, he responds. He tries something, you respond. You quickly learn that his punches send you flying if you’re not grounded enough. You ask him to do it again, this time you send up a shield. He gets thrown to the ground.

 

Steve marvels over your shields. You explain to him that they’re designed to use the force put into it to rebuff in kind. So, if someone gives it a light tap, their hand just bounces back. If someone runs into it, they’ll get thrown back. Same concept goes for projectiles. According to Steve, his shield had the ability to absorb shock, so he never felt the impact but they did.

 

You both learn more and more about one another.

 

Steve finally sees you in this realm. He loves watching you move, how you dance through your fights. It gives him confidence to see you defend yourself. It gives him peace of mind.

 

And you love getting to share this with him. Fighting has become a way to bond for you. You spar with Thomasin sometimes when you just want to talk or work through things. You would duel with others for the fun of it, to hone skills and hang out. This was a communication style for you, and now it’s been extended to this handsome man before you.

 

~*~

 

You called it quits after some hours at the gym. Having gotten your exercise, you feel better, not as tight or worried. You both go out for dinner and decide to run to the store to get groceries for the week.

 

Everything is good and normal.

 

Upon reaching the apartment and setting the groceries inside you realize that you left your coat down in the truck. “Hey,” you say, “I’ll be right back. Left my jacket in the car.”

 

Steve quickly stops you. “Wait,” he insists, worry in his eyes. The sun has already set.

 

“I’ll be alright, just going down and back.”

 

He’s reluctant to let you go but in the end, he does. His eyes follow you as you make your way out the door, conscious of the fact that you carry your pack.

 

You quickly make your way back down the complex and head to the vehicle. Just as you reach inside the bed, something sends a shiver down your spine. You whirl around, eyes searching the area. You feel everything out but nothing is out of the ordinary. Or so it seems.

 

You walk out, summoning your bow-staff.

 

Cars still whir down the street. A few passersby eye you strangely as you make your way further and further out. None of them stick around to find out what’s wrong with you. It’s dark out, the moon can be seen through a thin layer of clouds. But nothing seems out of place about the street.

 

 _Maybe I’m just getting paranoid_. But as you turn around, you see them.

 

The yellow orbs. The glowing eyes. The dark beast.

 

The thing is bigger than you anticipated. Its jaw hangs open, revealing its jagged teeth and curled back lips. Its body stretches back, its black skin pulled taut. Scars decorate its body. It has long legs that bend unnaturally at the joints, big-outstretched paws. Claws shine in the street light, much like its teeth do. A reek of decay emanates from the being as it growls.

 

You are stunned in horror. All you want to do is retreat and hide from the hellish being.

 

It lunges. And you throw up your staff, screaming.

 

Up in the apartment, Steve bolts to his feet. Either he heard you scream, or something in his chest is telling him that you are screaming. Whichever the case, he runs.

 

Your back slams onto the sidewalk, jaws gnawing at the staff to get to your face. You struggle against it to keep it just out of your reach. Its awful stench makes you gag. One of its claws catches your cheek then tears down your neck, ripping your shirt at your left shoulder. You scream from the sudden sting. Its eyes glow all the brighter as the smell of blood fills its nostrils. You wriggle all the harder underneath its massive weight. Finally, you catch its stomach with your feet and kick as hard as you can.

 

The creature is thrown off with a growl, knocked against the streetlight. You quickly roll over onto your hands and knees and jump up. You grab your staff and start running. The thing quickly pursuing.

 

Someone shouts your name.

 

Gasping, you glance back, slowing down.

 

Steve is there, gawking at the horrid hound.

 

The creature acknowledges the new person. It smells the air, and something in it considers going back. It recognizes your scent on him.

 

“NO!” you scream at it, throwing your hand up.

 

A golden shield appears before Steve, keeping him from following.

 

The glowing eyes find you again and quickly start catching up.

 

You run down the sidewalk, mentally trying to build the grid system. You have no idea where you’re going and losing this thing isn’t all that easy in a city.

 

It launches at your back. You whirl around, catching its neck with the staff, and pitch it at the ground. The sidewalk cracks beneath its impact. Its strange body rights itself faster than you think it should. It jumps again, and you thrust the butt of the staff into its stomach, throwing it back. You run again.

 

Your eyes search the city, frantically trying to think of something that could help. You can hear the thing loping after you, getting ever closer. You come to a street corner and plant yourself. Golden throwing knives shoot out from your hands, two for the jaw and two for the head.

 

They leave four slashes in the beast’s skin. No blood appears. It hardly seems affected as it shakes the knives off and launches again.

 

You don’t move soon enough, and its upon you. You keep its jaws at bay with your staff. With one swift swing, though, its claws rip into your stomach, leaving you screaming. Thinking through the blinding pain, you summon a single sai in your hand and stab at the beast’s throat.

 

The startling bite gets the thing off you, but still no blood pours from the obvious wound you just gave it. You force yourself to your feet, breathing sends fire through your lungs again. You drop your staff, calling it off, and summon the second sai into your other hand.

 

The thing watches you with its entrancing eyes, sizing you up. You hold up your blades and wait, ignoring the searing pain in your bleeding stomach. It leaps, and you do, too. Your blades catch its nose, cutting near the eyes, drawing a whine from it. You land and once more take off.

 

Something up ahead catches your eye. _A power plant! I can fry the fucking thing_. You force yourself to run faster, hearing how it tries to catch up.

 

Dark laughter bubbles up from the back of your mind. **All you’re going to do is fry yourself** , Damina taunts. **I didn’t think you were stupid enough to think to try electricity**.

 

 _Shut up!_ You run harder. _I just need to get close enough_.

 

But the beast is gaining on you.

 

You clamp down on your teeth and push yourself hard off the ground, leaping the rest of the distance. Unfortunately, you crash onto the ground, messing up your side and causing your stomach to bleed all the more. You sound and feel pitiful as you force yourself to stand up again.

 

The glowing, yellow eyes appear before you.

 

You call off your sai and wait. When the creature makes a dash for you, you send a shield up. It crashes into and gets shot back. You bring up three more and box the thing in. It claws and bites at the walls, only to get thrown back. Calling to the water in the grass, in the air, in what puddles might be lying around, you dowse the beast in the box. The shields then morph into a bubble around the being. Pulling energy forth, you lift the creature in your sphere and send it flying into the power plant.

 

Sparks fly as the thing crashes in, bringing down some of the structure. Electricity erupts. Lights and other sources power down, making the whole area grow dark – an unnatural thing in such a busy city. The creature’s howls can be heard.

 

You can feel the water feeding the explosion. You create a shield around you and bolt out of there. Again, you don’t know where you’re going, you’re just trying to get away. When your legs can’t move you anymore, and when you can’t even pant for a breath, you stop. You fall onto the sidewalk and groan in pain.

 

~*~

 

Steve comes upon the darkened area surrounding the power plant. As he approaches he can still see spark flying from the collision. He can only imagine that you sent that hellish thing into it. _Good riddance_ , he thinks and searches for you.

 

But you're not here.

 

He turns around and starts running again, his eyes still trying to follow the drops of blood left everywhere. He needs to find you.

 

~*~

 

“Steve,” you cry out. “Steve!”

 

Something starts ringing, a repetitive bell. It’s too loud and too painfully close to your head. But you know that sound. You hear it on television when someone gets a call….

 

You gasp, shooting pain everywhere, and reach back into your pack. You finally struggle the phone out and flip it open. You put the receiver to your ear. “Hello?”

 

“ _Where the **hell** are you?_ ” Steve shouts.

 

The sound sends a painful throb through your head. “I don’t know,” you whimper. “But, Steve, I’m really hurt. Please, come find me.”

 

“ _How? I lost track of you._ ”

 

You’re so close to passing out from the pain. But you reach out to him. You pull on the connection, the way Thomasin did the day she needed your help. “Feel that? Follow that. It’ll bring you to me. Please, hurry!” You close the phone and somehow put it back in your pack. You curl in on yourself and close your eyes.

 

~*~

 

Steve doesn’t understand what this feeling is inside his chest, this tugging. But just like one follows their hunch, Steve follows where his gut keeps telling him to go. It felt like tracing an invisible path. Whatever the case whatever he’s following better lead him to you. He won’t know what to do with himself if he’s wrong.

 

He comes to a part of the city where the lights have not gone out. If the power’s gone out on the other part of the grid, it might take some time before it returns. He runs until he finally spots you under a flickering streetlight, a lump on the sidewalk.

 

You’re passed out on the ground, bleeding from your neck and stomach. Your shirt is hardly holding itself together on your torso.

 

He kneels beside you and taps your cheek, calling your name.

 

You don’t answer.

 

He quickly grabs your wrist and looks for a pulse. Thankfully, he finds one.

 

Steve watches your light appear along your stomach. He sends a thankful prayer to the stars. If you’re healing yourself then he knows you will be well. Gently, he picks you up from the ground and hurriedly makes the long way back to his apartment.

 

If he’d been too much longer, the beast would’ve found you again. And who knows what would’ve happened then.


	16. Honesty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original title: Hard Truths
> 
> Beware, long chapter.
> 
> =)

You wake up late into the next day, in a bathtub filled with water. You’ve been dressed down to just your underwear, and you’ve obviously been resting within the water for a long time for even _your_ skin has pruned over. You shift into a sitting position and let out a groan.

 

Your left shoulder aches, and your stomach is pulled tight. Glancing over both sites, you find new scars upon your skin. Your fingers trace over the ones that reach your cheek. It goes down your neck and over your shoulder. The ones on your stomach just missed your ribs but cut all the way across.

 

The healing is still fresh for the skin to be pink around the wounds. They’ll turn to white lines soon enough. You hope. So long as that thing isn’t some kind of dark demon that uses dark magic or power, the cuts will scar normally.

 

You glance around and finally spot Steve resting against the bathroom wall. He sleeps as he sits there. He hasn’t changed from the night before. Blood covers his gray shirt and jeans. You can see the dark circles forming under his eyes.

 

You reach out to touch his leg.

 

Steve startles awake, his eyes immediately landing on you. He calls your name, as if by doing so it will keep you from disappearing on him again. He takes your hand in both of his.

 

“I’m here,” you tell him softly.

 

His body sags in relief. He moves closer, and you reach out to him with your other hand, further pressing yourself against the side of the tub. Steve mistakenly places his hand on your wounded cheek as he kisses you.

 

You return his fervor but can’t stop yourself from moaning in pain.

 

He pulls back, removing his hand. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes quickly.

 

You shake your head. “It’s fine, love,” you console. “Will you help me out?”

 

Steve quickly nods and takes a hold of your body. He lifts you carefully out of the tub and gently sets you on your feet.

 

You have to cling to him with your right arm as you wait for your weight to settle back on your feet. You let yourself be undressed and dried off. You insist upon walking yourself into the bedroom. By the time you reach the bed, you’re exhausted.

 

Steve hands you some undergarments and your pajamas. He’s going to put you to bed.

 

You dress slowly then crawl further into the bed, holding your stomach. You let out a muffled cry as you drop onto the pillow.

 

Steve helps you settle better. He pulls the covers around you. He tucks your hair behind your ear and watches you fall asleep. He checks your forehead. There is no fever, for which he is very grateful. After knowing that you’re well and settled, he gets up.

 

He enters the bathroom once more and empties the bathtub. He has long gotten rid of your torn-up shirt. He gets rid of his own shirt and puts his jeans in the sink to soak. It might be possible to wash out the bloodstains. When he’s done there, he goes back into his room and changes into something more comfortable, sure that he won’t be going anywhere anytime soon. He moves over to the living room, leaving the bedroom door open in case you come to need him.

 

Steve’s blue eyes roam over the room. He needs something to do. He glances at the clock. It’s past lunchtime, so he decides to make himself something to eat. Afterwards he sits down on the couch and turns on the television. He’s curious to see if the news has covered anything that happened last night.

 

~*~

 

Early that morning, Carla stands at the site, intelligent eyes taking everything in. She walks around the plant’s debris searching for any clue as to what did this.

 

“Agent Castillo, we found more blood leading away from here. There seems to be multiple trails of it,” Agent Tillman reports.

 

“Did you get the sampling?” she asks, eyes busy.

 

“Yes.” He hands it over.

 

“Then follow the trails and see where they lead. Once you know, get rid of the blood.”

 

“Do you know who it belongs to?” Tillman questions with a raised eyebrow.

 

“I have a suspect in mind. But there are no bodies here, so P.D. doesn’t need to deal with the blood. Get rid of it before the media gets here. It won’t be long.”

 

Tillman nods. “One last thing, I found this.”

 

Carla accepts a small item in her hand. Her eyes look it over. It’s some kind of tooth or claw, dark iridescent in color. She goes to question the agent about its whereabouts, but Tillman is gone. She moves her trained eyes back on the terrain. Finally, she sees something.

 

The pillars, the lines, even the floor, have claw marks dug into them. Yet no blood, nor fur of any kind. Just the gauges stand.

 

Carla inspects them closely. She pulls out her phone and takes several pictures. She looks around but only finds the plant workers diligently trying to fix the damage – they’ve been at it since early into the morning. No creature, no suspect. She walks out, eyeing the sample of blood and the claw in question.

 

_What was chasing you, woman? Why did you bring it here? And where did it go?_

 

~*~

 

Steve finds a channel covering the plant’s strange explosion. He lowers the volume so it won’t bother you and listens in. He watches the footage, searching for the mangled body that should be left over.

 

They say the explosion came about in the middle of the night mysteriously. The only evidence they could find for the cause were some claw marks within the plant, nothing more. They warn against a stray, wild animal that’s on the loose and advise to stay inside at night until the animal can be found and taken care of.

 

Steve doesn’t believe his eyes and ears. He knows what he just heard but he can’t believe it. _That beast didn’t die! And it’s roaming around again_. He also watched the footage carefully and never once spotted blood on the scene. He knows it was there, he saw it last night. Now it’s gone, and they think it’s some kind of wolf or tiger that did this, for all they know.

 

Exasperated and worried, Steve turns off the television. What’s he going to tell you when you wake up? You didn’t kill it the way he thought you did. Which he also doesn’t understand. What thing can survive that kind of electrocution? Steve pulls at his face, trying to come up with a solution. He gets why this concerned you so much before.

 

Suddenly a whimper catches his ear. It’s coming from the bedroom.

 

Steve quickly gets up and makes his way to the doorway.

 

You have a pained look on your face, and your hands clutch the covers tightly. You’re tossing back and forth harshly, making unintelligible noises.

 

Steve rushes over to you. He calls your name calmly, setting a hand on your shoulder.

 

Your eyes fly open, and your body sits up. You search around frantically, gasping, panting for breath. You clutch your stomach, bearing through the pain.

 

Steve brings your attention to him, calmly and gently resting his hands on your shoulders. “It’s alright, Starlight,” he says softly. “It’s a nightmare.”

 

Tears fill your eyes. “It was chasing me again,” you tell him “Its eyes were everywhere.” You can still see the glowing, yellow eyes, and then its teeth.

 

Steve moves onto the bed with you and holds you. He lets you sob the nightmare away. He understands that some of this simply comes from the pain you’re in, along with the shock the event gave you last night. He strokes your hair and softly calms you. Eventually, you fall back asleep.

 

Steve settles you back into the bed. He leaves the room to grab a sketchpad and some supplies. He returns to the bed with them and sits beside you. He watches as you curl into his legs, your hand holding onto him. It seems that his presence near you gives you some internal rest, because for the rest of the day you sleep at ease.

 

~*~

 

The next day you wake around midmorning. Your body feels better now that it’s had sleep and better healing time. You’re surprised to find Steve sitting next to you in bed.

 

He’s reading and drinking his coffee. He looks down at you when you shuffle. He can read that you’re actually awake this morning. He smiles. “Morning,” he greets softly.

 

You gaze at him for a moment. His blue eyes are gentle and soft. His blond hair swoops to the side. You like his straight nose and strong jaw but you especially love his smile. It brightens his face, unlike when he is serious. You smile back at him. “Hi,” you reply. “I didn’t mean to sleep through the day.”

 

“Seems to have done you some good. Your scarring is significantly better.” His fingers trace the new white lines that cover your left cheek and shoulder.

 

Irrational worry fills your mind. “Does it look bad? Is it marring?”

 

“You’re beautiful as ever, Starlight,” Steve assures you. “If anything, it adds to your intrigue.”

 

You want to argue but you can feel how he means it. He’s being honest, and that for some reason really means a lot to you. You set a hand over his. “Thank you.”

 

He nods, stroking your cheek with his finger before his face grows serious. “Why didn’t you let me help you?” he asks.

 

“Because I didn’t want this to be you as well,” you explain. “It specifically had my scent in mind but you have my scent on you, too. I didn’t want it to attack you instead of me.”

 

Steve frowns at your use of the past tense. “I’m sorry to inform you, but it’s not gone.”

 

Your eyes grow wide as you swallow that fact. _It’s not gone?_ “Fuck,” you mutter, closing your eyes. You let out a deep breath through your nose. You nod to yourself, accepting the fact. “Well, alright then,” you state.

 

Steve’s frown only deepens. “You can’t keep me out again,” he insists.

 

You meet his stern gaze. “I won’t. But that doesn’t mean that I won’t try to get it away.”

 

“If that’s what works, I understand. But, _please_ , let me help you.”

 

You nod. You don’t mention how he’s unarmed and unguarded because you know that he already knows this, and he still offers himself. “We’ll figure it out.”

 

He eases beside you, nodding. He wants to build a plan, but with so little information, how can he? “Feel like getting up?” he questions.

 

“Yes, please.”

 

Steve helps you sit up in bed and slowly make your way into the living room.

 

You’re sore and a little lightheaded but nothing else. Once you’ve eaten, you feel at ease with your body again. You’re able to move on your own without trouble. You get through the day.

 

~*~

 

It’s late into the evening as you’re having dinner that Steve asks you about what’s been on his mind. “How did you do that, by the way? Call me, pull me, let me know where you were,” he asks.

 

“Ah,” you say around your food. “Yeah. Um. We have forged an essence link.”

 

He cocks a blond brow. “Excuse me?”

 

You chuckle. “It’s not as scary as it sounds. Let me explain.”

 

“Please do.”

 

You swallow your bite of food. “There are distinct kinds of links that people with power and/or magic can create with others. Mental links allow two people to talk to one another exclusively with their minds. Emotional links allow two people to feel each other’s emotions personally. Well, I can create what I call an essence link. Everyone has an essence – some have color, texture, detail. It can be called different things but just about everyone knows that an essence is.

 

“Because my abilities are made to work and influence emotions and essences, I can create links between myself and others that allow me to locate them anywhere. I can find their essence, I can track it, and I can call it to me. By doing this, I’m allowing the recipient to be able to do the same to me in some regard. Last night, I used our link to bring you to me. What you followed was the path I made for you.”

 

Steve marvels over how his world keeps getting stranger and stranger.

 

You take a sip of your drink. “Oddly enough, I was not the original forger of this link,” you inform him with humor in your voice. “You were.”

 

“Me? How could I do that?” Steve asks. “I can’t do anything crazy like you.”

 

You scoff. “I’ve been asking myself that, too. You’ve managed a lot of things that most usually can’t – so easily. But you must’ve been incredibly attentive to me since I’ve gotten here.”

 

“I would say that I was.”

 

“And that’s what created it. You paid attention to how I felt, how I was physically, and you were always reading me. And as your emotions, and my own, came into play, the link was slowly built. What probably finished the forging was our date night.”

 

Steve raises an eyebrow, even though his cheeks turn a light shade of pink.

 

“Sex is a bonding of two people. It mixes their essences together. It helps create their union to one another. That’s why it’s hard to let go of someone after you’ve slept with them. Ties and emotions have bonded together there, and it can take a very long time to undo them.”

 

“Makes sense. So, what can I do with this?” he asks.

 

“You can essentially summon me when you need me. I’ll feel it like a call,” you tell him. “It’ll help you locate me. There’ll be this nagging thought or tug that’ll seem to _know_ where I am. It’s not a constant thing but it’s there when you need it.”

 

This makes Steve smile. “That’s good to know.”

 

You smile back. “Oh! And on the fun, emotional end of it, it’ll let you convey emotions to me far more directly, even thoughts and concepts but passed through emotions. Like this.”

 

You take Steve’s hand in yours and send through your feelings for him. You let him know how much you care for him, how grateful you are to have him. You feel safe with him, secure, and you want to be able to give that back to him.

 

Steve draws in a large breath as he processes through the emotions and information flooding him. He’s receptive, accepting the waves. He even laughs at the spectacular thing that this is. When you let go of his hand, he’s surprised to still feel it all there.

 

You watch him, amused. “Sorry,” you say, “I probably shouldn’t have sent that much.”

 

“But it felt incredible!” Steve exclaims. To personally experience what you feel about him. It allows him to know, to be sure of your affections. Not that he doubted them before but this really cements it.

 

You laugh, a blush growing on your cheeks.

 

“And I can do it in return?” he asks as he takes your hand in his.

 

Suddenly a warmth blossoms within your chest. It spreads over your body, hugging you. It melts your heart and makes you special. You close your eyes. You can hear his messages within you.

 

 _You are wanted. You are safe. You are mine_.

 

It almost brings tears to your eyes. Few whom you share these links with ever choose to use them. You’re used to giving but it feels wonderful to receive it as well. You open your eyes and intertwine your fingers with his.

 

Somehow Steve knows that there’s an open passage there, a bridge that both can walk on. And it’s through that walkway that he knows how you’re surprised by how much you care for him. Some part of your worries about it. It’s a timidity that comes with trying this again. But above that, you want to be there with him. And that’s enough for Steve.

 

~*~

 

Unfortunately, sleep doesn’t come easily to you that night. There’s too much on your mind. You get up and make your way into the living room. One nagging thought reminds you that you need to tell Tom about the creature being here. You doubt she’s awake but you grab your journal anyway.

 

You’re trying to think of how to start the message when her writing appears.

 

*

 

_Hey. So... uh... something odd and kind of personal has come up?_

 

*

 

Immediately your own thoughts are gone and are now focused on your friend.

 

_Oh? What’s up, Tom? Are you alright?_

 

*

 

_Uuuuhhm. Yeah, you could say that? Maybe?_

 

*

 

Her scratchy handwriting gives away her nerves, which only serves to put you on edge.

 

_You don’t sound so sure of that. Do you want to try calling me?_

 

Her answer will be defined by how “personal” this is.

 

*

 

 _No, no, it’s easier this way. Plus, I’d have to ask Jane, and I just really can’t handle that right now_.

 

 _I still think that guy you’re staying with is into you. Gave you a phone and everything_.

 

*

 

Your pen hits the paper terribly hard as you quickly write back.

 

 _It’s a helpful gesture. Plus, everything here runs on technology anyway_.

 

You roll your eyes at how pitiful you are.

 

_But, okay, so what’s come up?_

 

There’s a long pause before she finally writes back. And even then, it’s full of hesitation, and the heavy pressing of her pen. You almost think it’s going to poke through and appear on your end.

 

*

 

 _Hah. Yeah. Technology and stuff. Makes me miss home_.

 

_Um. Well. Loki has to get married? And I guess it’s to me?_

_Not really conventional for our people, but whatever, I guess_.

 

*

 

You find yourself staring at her words, reading them over and over. But they never change. You decipher her phrasing, not an unusual thing when it comes to things like this. The thing is you know exactly what she’s saying but you need her to admit to it.

 

_... Did you just tell me you’re engaged?_

 

She writes in a dreadful hurry, her already sloppy handwriting growing worse.

 

*

 

 _Gods, don’t say it like that, ugh_.

 

*

 

You roll your eyes. There’s the admittance you’re going to get.

 

 _So yes. To Loki. Your bastard prince – king, whatever – from Asgard_.

 

While Loki conveniently let out that detail of his on his last visit, Tom has filled you in slightly on the changes Asgard went through after the banishment along the way. You sit there, mulling your own statement over. “Wow,” you say aloud. “Never expected that.” Of all people to accept marriage, your friend Thomasin was not at the top of that list.

 

There’s something in your stomach. You wonder if it is jealousy. You were once engaged. Not that in the end it worked out, but still. The more you turn the feeling over you realize it’s not jealousy at all. You are rather happy for your dear friend, and you want her to realize that, yes, she does want this.

 

*

 

_Just tell me this is stupid, please?_

_I mean, this is a bad idea, right?_

 

*

 

 _Well, here we go_ , you think. This isn’t your first time trying to convince your friend of her feelings about someone.

 

 _Alright, it’s stupid_.

_Do you want to?_

 

In her pause, you know she’s contemplating what to tell you.

 

*

 

_I... yeah, I guess I do. But it’s stupid, so I shouldn’t. I mean, there’s a LOT that can and **will** go wrong, you know?_

 

*

 

“You think I don’t know that?” you ask the journal. “I’m currently here trying to _deal_ with that!”

 

Tom begins doodling as she waits on your answer.

 

 _But that’s not the point_. As much as you hate admitting it even to yourself, you know it’s not worth losing someone simply because you know things might go wrong. There’s always a possibility for something to happen, but would you rather face it alone or with someone you know cares enough to want to help and be there with you?

 

The doodle is turning into a noose, oddly enough.

 

_So? Things always go wrong, doesn’t matter where we are or who we’re with. Do you want him more than that?_

 

You watch as the noose doodle comes to a pause. It makes you wonder what dark thoughts are running through your friend’s mind.

 

*

 

_Fuck me. Yeah, I do. What the hell is wrong with me?_

 

*

 

You smile at the page.

 

*

 

_Look, how about I just kick Trenchcoat’s ass, kill his pets, and then you come to New Mexico and we’ll book it to Asgard with Thor, yeah? I’m sure your nice-guy host can help you with a map, or a plane ticket, or a car, or something, right?_

 

*

 

It’s an understatement to say that a boulder drops into your stomach. _Shit_. You find yourself staring at the page, unable to write.

 

The noose grows to have a long, dark trench coat with a hat to top it off.

 

 _Why do I suddenly feel like that’s about to be **me** rather than him_ , you ask yourself as a sickening feeling grows in the pit of your stomach. It’s your turn to be honest now.

 

 _If I didn’t have to take care of one of those said pets over here, I’d jump over to New Mexico right now and shoot you both up to Asgard_.

 

You have to grit your teeth and force yourself through the next part.

 

 _But… I… Well…_.

 

 _I don’t want to stay in Asgard_.

 

The only thing keeping you from screaming at your own words is the dreaded wait you have to sit through for her answer. _If_ she answers.

 

She thankfully does.

 

*

 

_… Wait… what?_

 

*

 

You gnaw on your lip as your stomach twists.

 

 _Umm… yeah. I should explain_.

 

*

 

_Okay, so, what is it?_

 

*

 

You tap your pen on the page furiously fast, anxiety coursing through you. It almost feels like she’s tapping her foot at you. You groan and rub your eyes. You need to tell her now.

 

 _Primarily, I let my feelings get away from me and fell for someone_.

 

 _You were right earlier. The guy, my host, **does** like me. And I ended up liking him back. And now we’re here_.

 

Your teeth dig into your lower lip as you wait for her answer.

 

*

 

_Oooooo, I was right!_

 

*

 

You stare at her words and let out a laugh, nerves very evident in your tone. Humor. Humor is good coming from Thomasin.

 

_Yes, you were! Would you like me to repeat it for you?_

 

*

 

 _Na, I’m good. I can go back and read it anytime I want_.

 

*

 

You roll your eyes but smile.

 

*

 

 _Well, cool, friend. I’m happy for you_.

 

 _You know I can’t stay here on Earth though, right? Like, humans and stuff are not my cup of tea_.

 

*

 

You’re slowly easing again.

 

 _Yeah, I get that! But I also can’t keep doing Asgard. It’s just… too much. Too tall, too rich, too gold – which is not usually something I complain about_.

 _I can definitely still visit, if I don’t get struck down by lightning_.

 

_Are you sure you’re okay with this?_

 

You really, really don’t want her to be upset with you.

 

*

 

 _Yeah, I’m aware of what Asgard is. It’s not like I fit in there either_.

 

 _But yeah, it’s fine, friend_.

_You sure he’s a good guy?_

 

*

 

The question makes your heart soften simply because it makes you think of him.

 

_You fit in better, and you’ll keep doing great there!_

 

_Yeah, he really is. You’d approve! He’s very thoughtful, if a bit overprotective, and a very simple, straight forward guy. Different from…_

 

You stop mid-thought, realizing where you were going with that, and quickly adjust it.

 

_… those in Asgard, for sure. But he’s an artist like you!_

 

*

 

 _Ha. Yeah. I don’t, but it’s fine_.

 

_And, ah, I see. So, he’s, like, human, yeah?_

 

*

 

“Ehhhhhhhh…. Why is that a complicated questioooonnnn?” you sing out.

 

 _Um, yes. Yes, he is. In all technicalities_.

 

*

 

_In all technicalities?_

 

*

 

You fake a grin at the page. She would laugh if she could see you then would narrow her eyes at you and continue to pry.

 

 _Yup! You should just come meet him. Then I can tell you about some of the nuances about him. If you’re asking if he has either power or magic, he has neither_.

 

She veers slightly, and you’re okay with it.

 

*

 

 _Still grounded here unfortunately_.

 _If anything changes, I’ll let you know_.

 

 _I guess I’ll, uh, keep you updated. On the whole engaged thing_.

 

*

 

You let out a giddy laugh and do a tiny dance in your seat.

 

_You’re **engaged**!_

_Do know that I’m currently doing a little happy jig for you!_

 

*

 

 _Ha, ha, very funny. Well, thanks, and hopefully I’ll be able to come see you soon_.

 

 _Just be careful. I’m worried those things will be after you. It’s all been quiet here_.

 _It’s… weird_.

 

*

 

That brings back your old problems.

 

 _That **is** strange. You be careful, too_.

 

You think through how much you want to tell her about what just happened. Your hand absently brushes your stomach. You decide to not put another thing on her mind. She doesn’t need to worry about you, too.

 

 _There’s been a sighting of one here. I’ll keep you updated on that_.

 

*

 

 _Okay, sounds good. Just stay safe_.

 

*

 

 _You too, friend_.


	17. Shield

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you ready for this?? ;D
> 
> Let's veer from canon, shall we? \^_^/

Reclining onto your back on the couch, you let everything process through. You’re happy to know that the conversation ended well, but it is still a ride that’s left you emotionally worn. You can only imagine what state your friend is in. You close your journal, resting it on your stomach, and rub your tired eyes.

 

You know Tom is sad about your news. Hell, _you’re_ sad about your news because it means that you two will live apart from one another again, after so recently catching up. You pull at your face. But you’ll both be happy, living with people you care for and whom care for you.

 

 _Tom is getting **married**. Wow. Damn! That’ll take some getting used to_.

 

You’re happy for her, truly. Old longing resurfaces, and you push it away. You will celebrate with your friend because she deserves it. You won’t get in the way of that. The idea of your best friend getting married truly does make you happy. It even makes you wonder if you could manage to take Steve to the wedding with you. Again, most of this will depend on not getting struck down with lightning upon arrival in Asgard. The frightening thought somehow makes you laugh.

 

Unfortunately, none of this helps with the beast problem. That still weighs heavily on your mind. _How am I going to protect Steve?_

 

As you lie there, Steve’s shield comes to mind. You can picture it perfectly from how he’s described it and drawn it. You think back on his story. He crashed into the ocean, in his suit, with his shield. Therefore, when they found him iced over, they should’ve found the shield as well. S.H.I.E.L.D. must have those items somewhere.

 

You sit up quickly, the journal falling onto your lap. _If I follow Carla’s presence, I can find S.H.I.E.L.D. Inside, I can track Steve’s, which will hopefully still be on his shield. And I can get it back!_

 

You sit there grinning like crazy at the idea. But there’s a shift in it. It’s not a normal grin of triumph, of coming up with an idea that might work. No, it’s an old grin, a fox’s grin. One that comes out of knowing what you’re about to do. And it thrills you.

 

~*~

 

Having snuck around the apartment silently to get dressed in your jeans, shirt, boots, and jacket, you finally stop by Steve. He sleeps heavily, exhausted from what’s happened and all the work he’s done for you. You brush his blond hair gently, touching his temple. _Sleep deeply, love_. You press a kiss on his cheek then take your leave. After quietly shutting the bedroom door, you grab your pack, braid back your hair, and make your way up the fire escape.

 

The wind greets you on the roof, and you take it in, energy pulsing through you. You’re ready for this. You close your eyes and concentrate on the city below. _So many people_. You seek out Carla. You run through presence upon presence. This city is full of them. Finally, you touch hers somewhere far off from where you stand. You assume it’s where she lives. You follow her trail to the next heaviest concentration. And after some searching, it lands on a building not too far from you.

 

You open your eyes and once more adjust to the city’s orangey hue from the street lights below. Having the destination in mind, you take a few steps back, and then bolt forward. You jump onto the ledge and leap, soaring over the alleyway below. Your landing on the rooftop is rough on your stomach. But ignoring the ache and soreness, you keep going. You don’t worry about being spotted; no one ever looks up.

 

You leap from building to building, following Carla’s trail. After several leaps and turns, you finally land on a very plain skyscraper. Nothing really distinguishes it from the rest but the whole inside is covered in Carla’s print. So, you know you’re at the right place.

 

You kneel beside the door that’ll let you in. Now you slough off Carla’s essence and seek out Steve’s. You have to concentrate harder because you know it’ll be faint. People roam around inside, making you question what they’re working on so late at night. About halfway down, you start to wonder if they even have it. But suddenly you find it. There’s a room filled with his presence. It’s very faint but you recognize it as his. “Sweet!”

 

Pressing your hands upon the floor, you send your light down. You search out their security system. When you find their hub, you put your light to work. It infiltrates the network and essentially puts all feeds on null. Therefore, once you enter, no camera will record your entrance, and no siren will go off if you open a door. “Perfect,” you mumble to yourself and cut off your light’s flow.

 

You stand up and brush off your jeans. You slide your braid into your jacket and pull the hood on. Taking the door’s handle in your hand, you send some light into the keyhole. This unlocks it, and you slip inside.

 

~*~

 

Making your way down several stories into the belly of the building is easier than you think it should be. Fortunately, most of the people working are busy inside labs or on computers. They’re all too distracted to notice the shadow that passes by them. You reach the level that supposedly the shield is on. You stop before the door because it holds a large design on the front of it that you haven’t noticed before.

 

It’s like an emblem. There is an encircled eagle’s head. On the rim of the circle, there are words.

 

 ** _S_** _trategic **H** omeland **I** ntervention, **E** nforcement, and **L** ogistics **D** ivision_.

 

 ** _S.H.I.E.L.D._** , you think with your head cocked. _But what the hell does that even **mean**?_

 

There’s a plaque above the door, reading: _Avengers Initiative_.

 

You ignore the fact that you understand none of this and unlock the door. Inside you find yourself on a long, dark hall with different doors on each side. The area is lit by dim lights in the ceiling. When you don’t sense anyone near, you push back your coat’s hood to glance around better. As you begin making your way down, you see that each door has a plaque with a name embossed on it.

 

 _Hawkeye_.

 

 _Black Widow_.

 

 _The Hulk_.

 

 _Iron Man_.

 

 _Captain America_.

 

There’s a few more doors but the plaques have no names on them.

 

_Well, this is interesting. Isn’t Tony Stark known as the “Iron Man”?_

 

Old footage of him in his suit has been on television but since he’s been in New York the suit has yet to be seen publicly.

 

_Why are all these people classified together? Does this have to do with why Tony suddenly wants to meet with Steve? Who are the other three? What **is** this?_

 

You walk back and try the first door that’s labeled _Hawkeye_. You poke your head inside.

 

There’s a table with some files on it. Mounted on the wall are materials and gadgets befitting an archer of some modern sort.

 

Your hands itch for the bow and arrows hanging there but you force yourself back out and close the door. You move over and go into Black Widow’s door.

 

The room looks about the same as the last, files on a table and an array of gadgets and gun weaponry decorate the wall.

 

The Hulk’s door is different. It only has a thin set of files. Iron Man’s looks the same but there’s a set of boxes at the back, like someone didn’t unpack.

 

 _Weird. Well, okay, back to business_. You open Captain America’s door and head inside. The first thing that catches your eye is the weird, silver case to your right. It emanates a strange glow from the crack where the lid closes. You feel great power hidden within. _What the fuck?_ You step closer.

 

Only a serial number labels the silver plating.

 

You use your light to unlatch the case and lift the lid.

 

A cube glows blue inside, a galaxy swirling within it. Wires glowing red interconnect all around the thing. There’s even a blue dial pad in the corner. There’s a label inside the lid: _Tesseract_.

 

You let your hand hover over the cube. You can feel the draw of its power pulling at you. Something about it calls you. As your hand inches closer, it feels like you could reach the stars, go back to them, and even beyond them. It fills your mind with galaxies you’ve seen, and then shows you those you’ve not seen.

 

Your hand begins to glow from your own light in defense. It shakes you out of your reverie. The power within you rebels against it. It doesn’t like the blue cube, which means that you shouldn’t either. You retract your hand. _You have some interesting mysteries in here, S.H.I.E.L.D_. You close the lid, locking it again, and step away, finally taking the whole room in.

 

It looks just like the others but instead of weapons on the wall there’s a glass casing mounted there. Inside the case is Captain America’s suit in all its red, white, and blue glory. Resting in front of the suit is the shield. White star inside a blue center surrounded by red and white rings.

 

You smile as you picture Steve wearing this outfit holding his shield. _How very patriotically handsome_ , you think. _But right now, we only need the shield_.

 

You step up to the casing and seek out the opening. You find the lock on the side that will allow the glass door to open. Using your light, you unlock the case. After carefully opening the door, you gently remove the large disc from its placing then close and lock the door.

 

_Steve wasn’t kidding when he said it was lightweight. Nice!_

 

The shield isn’t nearly as heavy as it looks as you measure its size and weight. You trace the paint over the design, how beautifully etched it is. There’s a very strong presence that the shield itself gives off. And when it’s added to Steve, you can only imagine the impact _that_ is to behold in person.

 

You whirl it around and slide your small arm through the grips at the back. It’s obviously not made for your size but it definitely does the job. If you crouched, you could completely hide behind it like a turtle. Chuckling, you remove your arm from both the straps to grab just one, and then shoulder the shield like a backpack.

 

You turn to make your way out but your feet stop as your eyes fall upon the files on the desk. There’s several. Curiosity brings you closer. You open the first.

 

 _Captain Steven Grant “Steve” Rogers – Captain America_.

 

You pluck the wallet-sized picture from the paper clip.

 

It’s Steve. Your Steve. He’s in a clean-cut uniform, broad shoulders filling it out nicely, his blond hair smoothed over into its usual blond wave, that dashing lopsided smile upon his lips. He looks happy.

 

You keep a hold of the photo as you skim through the file. It tells you the same story he’s already told you. You get a glimpse at the enemy he fought – HYDRA run by the Red Skull, and his helper Zola. You close the file and pull out the other four. Two pique your interest greatly.

 

 _Sergeant James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes_.

 

 _Agent Margaret Elizabeth “Peggy” Carter_.

 

The other two are the Colonel that Steve and Bucky were under and Howard Stark, which confuses you. You’d think he’d be classified under Tony’s information. Maybe it’s shared between them.

 

You open Bucky and Peggy’s files and look upon their pictures.

 

Bucky wears the same uniform as Steve in his photo, the only difference is that he wears a cap as well. He’s a dashing fellow, dark hair and roguish smile. You scan over his information sheet, noting his birth date and death date. You feel bad that Steve lost him in such a harsh way.

 

Peggy’s face is framed by her dark, wavy hair. Smooth skin and painted lips. Her eyes show her intelligence. She’s beautiful. And British, meaning she must’ve had an accent. You scan down the page, finding her birth date. But her death date is not filled in.

 

Confusion makes you dig further. And to your utter amazement, you find that she’s still alive, living in Washington D.C., _America_. You try doing the math from her birthday. She’s either in her nineties or close to it. As you stare at her picture, you wonder why Steve never mentioned that she’s still alive. Old, but alive.

 

You know you’ve lagged too long so you go to close the files and return them to their original order. But you can’t stop yourself from stealing the photos: Steve’s, Bucky’s, and Peggy’s. You arrange the files, adjust the shield on your back, and carefully place the pictures in your coat pocket then head out. You quickly make your way back up the building. When you reach the rooftop once more, you send your light back down and fix their security system.

 

“See ya ‘round, S.H.I.E.L.D.,” you salute and bound out.

 

~*~

 

A strange noise from above wakes Steve. He shuffles and goes to put his arm around you only to find the space next to him empty. Suddenly alert Steve searches the bed but you’re not there. He throws off the covers and clambers out of bed. He checks the bathroom then runs into the living room. His blue eyes scour the area. Your pack, boots, and coat are gone. His heart begins to beat faster, thoughts racing of what could’ve possibly happened, none leaving him happy.

 

Steve’s about to head out the door when he hears a strange clambering at the window.

 

You didn’t think through how to get the shield on your back through the window. So, you back up and remove it. You step inside first, and then work the shield in.

 

Steve calls your name in alarm.

 

You gasp, head snapping to him.

 

“Where the hell have you been? What were you doing? Are you hurt? Did you go after that thing?” he fires off as he storms closer.

 

“Steve, calm down,” you insist. “I’m fine! I didn’t go after the beast. It’s okay!”

 

Steve comes to a stop before you. His eyes rake you over, checking for damage, before he takes your face in his hands. “You about gave me a heart attack, woman!” He showers your face in kisses.

 

You try giving them in return but only find yourself giggling. “I wasn’t expecting you to wake up before I got back.”

 

Steve pulls back and surveys you once more. “Where did you go?” he asks.

 

“Umm, to get something for you,” you answer.

 

His blond brows come together in confusion. “Get me something? What is it? Where from?”

 

You take his hands in yours and squeeze them. “It might come as a shock. Just warning you.” You let him go and reach behind you for the large disc. You hold it up for him to see the colors.

 

Steve takes a step back, blue eyes on the phantom shield before him. He doesn’t believe it’s there. It can’t _possibly_ be there. His shield!

 

You hold it out to him. “Take it, love. It’s yours.”

 

His hands reach out for it. They touch the rim. Grasp it.

 

You release the shield to him.

 

The familiar weight settles into his arms. He twirls it, listening to its clear din. He puts his left arm through the grips, taking a proper hold of it. He brings it close, stands up straight, and faces you. A lopsided smile appears. “How do I look?” he asks.

 

“Like the decorated captain you are,” you answer with a grin.

 

His smile broadens. He goes back to marveling over his shield. He once did a similar demonstration for Peggy and promptly got shot at. He’s thankful you’re not quite like that.

 

You close the window and unbutton your jacket. You set it on the back of the dining chair and start working off your boots. You remove your pack, setting it on the table, and dig around for the photos in the pocket of your jacket.

 

“Where did you get it from?” Steve asks as he sets the shield on the dining table alongside your bag.

 

You meet his inquisitive eyes. “You sure you want to know?” you counter.

 

“Always.”

 

You take a seat at the table, and Steve joins you. “I snuck into S.H.I.E.L.D. and stole it,” you admit.

 

“And you weren’t caught?” he questions, eyebrows high.

 

You shake your head. “They need to up their security. Getting in unnoticed was too easy.”

 

Steve stares at the shield for a moment. “What else did you find?”

 

“Along with your shield? What looked to be your Captain America suit and helmet, and then some files on several people.”

 

“Probably the ones they gave me when I first woke up.”

 

You’ve been fiddling with them underneath the table. Finally, you pull out the two pictures you kept for him. “I took these for you,” you tell him and place them atop the shield. You keep the third hidden in your hands.

 

Steve looks down at the photos of Bucky and Peggy. He doesn’t touch them, just stares. “Why?” he asks, looking almost spooked.

 

“Because they are special to you. You should be able to have them. What good are they doing in a musty file hidden away?”

 

He picks them up to inspect them. His heart aches for his lost best friend and his first love.

 

You can feel it. You fiddle with the picture you hold.

 

Steve’s eyes catch the movement. “What’s that?” he asks you.

 

Your eyes fall on his image before you turn it around for him to see. “I stole this one for myself,” you tell him honestly.

 

“Why?” he continues curiously.

 

“Pictures, photos, are a bit of a luxury thing for me. It’s hard to obtain and keep them. But I try collecting them as I can. When I saw it, and saw that it was you, I really wanted it. Like I said before, I’m sentimental. I kinda wanted to keep this, as a token.”

 

 _A token_ , he repeats. It brings a small smile to his face. He reaches out his hand. “May I?”

 

You hand the picture to him.

 

“Could I borrow your pen?”

 

You nod and dig it out of your bag.

 

He takes it and turns the photo around. He writes something on the back and draws some kind of doodle along with it before handing back both your pen and the picture.

 

You stash the pen away and read the message.

 

 _To my shooting star_ , it says, with your name following. It’s signed Steve. The doodle is of his decorated shield.

 

You smile down on the writing. This warms your heart. Despite what happens, you know you’ll always keep this. You turn the photo around to see his handsome face. When you glance up, you see Steve smiling at you. _It’s the same man_.

 

“Thank you. This means the world to me,” you whisper. You pull out your journal from your pack and open it to the last page you wrote on. You slide the photo into the crease and close it. “It’ll be safe there.” You put the journal away.

 

Steve looks back at his own photos. “These will likely fit in my wallet,” he notes. “Unless we can find them some small frames.” He shrugs. “We’ll see.” He meets your gaze. “I’ll have to get one of you, too.”

 

You chuckle. “Yeah, sorry, no. I don’t have any pictures of myself.”

 

“We can fix that.” His looks down at his shield. “Why did you steal it?”

 

“You want to fight with me? I need to know you have some kind of defense, protection, a weapon even. I don’t want you near that thing without anything on hand.”

 

Steve doesn’t say that he doesn’t approve of the stealing. But he understands why you did it. And he doesn’t fault you for it. He would’ve done the exact same thing for the exact same reason. So, he takes your hand in his and gives you an affirming nod.

 

You squeeze his hand, and a yawn escapes you. Exhaustion is catching up to your body. Your stomach is paying for your excursion.

 

“Come to bed, Starlight,” Steve says, reading your weary features.

 

You nod and follow him to the bedroom. You change back into your pajamas and climb in bed with Steve. You fall asleep wrapped up in him, listening to his heartbeat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love titles that have two meanings lol
> 
> Enjoy all the Easter eggs?


	18. Party It Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's meet Tony! =D

The next day you take it a little easier on your body. Although, at one point, you and Steve go up to the roof to practice using his shield. Neither of you want to go out flashing it around so the roof was the best and safest option. You don’t receive word from Tom so you give her some space. The rest of the day is uneventful.

 

It’s when the following day arrives that it finally dawns on you both that it’s Friday. Tony’s party is that night. Which means that Carla is coming over.

 

“We need to hide your shield,” you tell him point blank.

 

Steve arches a brow at you.

 

“What? You don’t think she suspects me to have stolen it?”

 

“Why would she suspect you first?” he asks casually.

 

You present a mock thinking face as though working through a hard argument. “Oh, I don’t know, possibly because I’m dating Captain America. That seems like a valid enough reason to suspect me,” you tell him.

 

Steve chuckles. “I don’t think she even knows it’s gone yet. If she did, she would’ve called me immediately, ready to interrogate. Or just shown up here, and interrogated me that way. You’re fine.”

 

Your shoulders relax some. “Okay, well, fair enough. But we still need to hide it. She can’t see it.”

 

“I’ll take care of it.”

 

Steve proceeds to hide the shield in the bed of his truck beneath a tarp he keeps in there. You both agreed that it needs to go to the party. Both _very_ sure something’s going to happen. Unfortunately, it is decided that your pack stays in the apartment.

 

~*~

 

Carla promptly raps at the door at six o’clock that evening.

 

Steve opens the door.

 

“Good evening, Captain,” she greets brightly.

 

“Hello, Carla,” Steve replies, taking in the nurse’s casual outfit. He’s still not used to seeing her in civilian clothes, such as jeans, a blouse, and a black jacket in this case.

 

She waltzes inside carrying two black dress bags in hand. She glances around the apartment after she enters. The place is tidied up compared to last time. She spots you sitting cross-legged on the couch reading something.

 

You look up at her. “‘Sup,” you greet.

 

Carla scoffs. “Still here, I see,” she remarks.

 

“Don’t plan on changing that anytime soon.”

 

Steve walks up behind Carla. “Would you like anything to drink?” he asks her.

 

Her brown hair flutters as she shakes her head. “No, thank you. I need to get to work.”

 

You don’t like the sound of that.

 

“Oh, but before we do, did either of you hear about the power plant?” Carla asks curiously.

 

You cock your head in confusion, but Steve answers, “Yes. Has anyone found the animal that caused the outage?”

 

“No, but the damage was fixed.”

 

“Was anyone hurt?” you inquire.

 

“Not that anyone could tell.”

 

“Well, that’s good.” It does make you feel better knowing that no one else was hurt.

 

“ _Anyway_ , Captain, if you don’t mind, I’m going to steal your girl for a while!”

 

Before either of you can say anything, Carla grabs your wrist and hauls you into the bedroom, shutting the door.

 

She lays the bags down on the bed carefully and steals you away into the bathroom. “Alright, sit,” she orders, pointing to the toilet.

 

You take a seat on the cover and let Carla start on your makeup. When she’s finished there, she works on your hair. She lends you a compliment, saying that its length allows her greater freedom for creativity. That brings a smile to your face.

 

“It seems like you’ve had a lot of practice,” you note.

 

“I have three younger sisters, and our mother always expected me to help with getting them dressed for the day,” Carla says.

 

“Do you still live with them?”

 

“No. I’m the only one that made it to America.”

 

“Oh, I see.”

 

“Do you have any siblings?”

 

You go to shake your head then remember its being worked on. “No, I was orphaned early on in life. I didn’t get to play dress up growing up. It was only later on when I had my best friend around that I put her through that misery for my sake. She _hated_ it!” _Still does_.

 

Carla laughs with you, and you go back to sitting quietly. Carla fills in the silence by giving you tips for how to dress up your hair and what colors best suit your skin tone for makeup. Her keen eyes catch the new, white scars on the left side of your neck, but she says nothing of it. When she’s done, she lets you see yourself in the mirror.

 

You stare back at your astonished reflection. Your hair is piled high onto your head, and it cascades down in thick ringlets. The makeup isn’t overstated, simply a complement to your coloring with some blush on your cheeks. Your eyes are decorated with black eyeliner with a winged finish, and above you wear gold and red eyeshadow. “Red is an interesting choice of color,” you tell her.

 

She laughs. “You’ll see why I chose red soon,” she replies. “But it also brings out your exotic features. Let’s get you into the dress.”

 

You follow her into the bedroom and watch her unzip one of the dress bags. Your eyes grow wide as you see what it is that she pulls out.

 

The dress is long, silky, and a deep, royal blue. It only has one shoulder on the left side. To the right the fabric is pulled creating a gathered pleating from where the skirt begins to descend from. The A-line, blue skirt has one pleat on the right of ruby red. The bodice is decorated with red jewels.

 

Carla helps you into the dress and zips it up on the side. Then she pulls out a pair of strappy, red heels.

 

“I swear you’re trying to sabotage me,” you joke and slip the damn things on.

 

She laughs as she pulls out a tube of red lipstick. “One last touch,” she insists. She paints your lips to finish off the red complements. “There. All done.”

 

You stick around and watch Carla get herself ready. She curls her hair, checks on her makeup, touching up her eyes. She dawns a tight, black cocktail dress with a halter top. It has an open back and silver outlines. She applies the same red lipstick. When she’s done, she packs up her things into the empty dress bag. She leaves the second bag on the bed and leads the way out into the living room.

 

“Oh, Captain,” she sings, “I have a surprise for you!”

 

Steve looks up and finds his jaw dropping as he lays eyes on you both. Once again, he finds you stunning, striking! His eyes follow the folds of the silky blue dress as it accents your slim waist and the curve of your hips. He recognizes the play of colors, red and blue. His colors. “By the stars and stripes,” he whispers.

 

Carla scoffs at his choice of words and smirks as you blush and tuck in your chin. She’s proud of accomplishing her mission. Carla saunters toward the door. “I have left you some clothes on the bed, Captain. I’m sure you’ll know what to do with them. I’m heading out. I’ll see you two at the party!”

 

~*~

 

On the drive over, you can’t keep from eying Steve. He looks remarkably dashing in his black slacks, red dress shirt, and white tie. The thing is he can’t stop glancing over at you either. So, when you catch him looking, it leaves you laughing and blushing.

 

Unfortunately, nerves set in the moment you arrive. It seems like all of New York City is here. This is the first time you’ve personally seen Stark Tower, and it’s currently swarming with party attendants. Music pulses through the building, vibrating through the floor. Colored lights flash outside and decorate the walls within.

 

You cling to Steve’s arm as he leads the way through the throng of people. Curiosity over meeting Tony is what brings you to this party, not the desire to be surrounded by so many humans. Your eyes search the surrounding area. Nothing looks out of the ordinary.

 

Somehow Steve gets you both inside the vast entrance to the building. The first three floors seem to open over one another and pool together, so people dance and chat at various places above your head. You both walk over to the bar and order some drinks. Steve offers you the stool, and you take a seat. Tony is finally spotted among the crowd, mingling and taking pictures.

 

On the fourth level of the building, Pepper Potts, a tall, thin woman with red hair curled around her thin face watches the goings-on through various camera feeds. The building’s system informs her of a strange detection it catches.

 

“Miss Potts,” JARVIS begins, “I do believe Captain Rogers has arrived.”

 

“Wonderful,” she replies. “I’ll let Tony know.” She taps some notes into her tablet.

 

“Yes, but I have a concern.”

 

“What is it?” Her eyes still watch her screen.

 

“He’s in the company of a most peculiar young lady. Something about her doesn’t register well with my system.”

 

“Let me see her,” Pepper says, for the first time taking interest. The computer before her picks a camera and zooms in on the feed to show you in your blue dress sitting at the bar. “She looks perfectly normal to me. Is she carrying any weapons or technology on her?”

 

“No, ma’am, none.”

 

“Then maybe the pins in her hair or the jewels on her dress are disrupting your system. She doesn’t look to be trouble. Keep an eye on her if you’d like but I see no problem.”

 

“Yes, ma’am.”

 

Pepper Pots sets down her tablet on the table and slips into her black heels. She wears a long, silver dress, accentuating her height and slender form. She makes her way down to the first floor through the elevator. She weaves through the crowd like one who is used to doing so. She happens upon Tony and taps his shoulder.

 

The man with the dark hair and goatee wearing a smart, gray suit smiles upon her. He wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her close. Pepper whispers her message in his ear.

 

From a different corner, Carla emerges from her riotous discussion with some men to seek out Steve. She joins you at the bar, a big smile on her lips and a clutch in hand. “Hello!” she exclaims.

 

“Hi?” you greet in return.

 

“Carla, how many drinks have you already had?” Steve questions, an amused curve on his lips.

 

“Not enough,” she answers and promptly orders herself something. “This is my world, Captain. I could do this all night.”

 

You laugh.

 

Carla appraises you with her sharp, brown eyes. “That dress really did turn out perfect for you. Stand with the Captain. I want to get a picture of you.” She slides you off the stool pushing you towards Steve. She takes your spot and digs her phone out of her clutch.

 

You stand next to Steve awkwardly, not really knowing what to do with yourself. Thankfully, Steve moves you in front of him as he wraps his arms about your stomach. As you rest against his warm, broad chest, you feel yourself relax. He brushes a kiss on your cheek. It brings a blush and a smile to your face as his nose nuzzles you.

 

“Oh, that’s perfect,” Carla remarks. “Now actually look at the camera.”

 

Steve’s chest rumbles against you as he laughs. You both look at Carla smiling. She snaps several more pictures, half of which you are sure you’re laughing through. You’re so unused to taking photos that you always feel so awkward trying to.

 

Suddenly Tony Stark and Pepper Potts arrive upon the scene.

 

Your eyes take in the two figures. They look like a celebrity couple, dressing the right way, smiling the right way, hosting the right parties. You’re internally aware of how plain you typically are compared to these two – you’ve always been.

 

“Captain Rogers,” Miss Potts begins, “it’s a real honor to have you here.” She shakes hands with Steve.

 

“The honor is mine, ma’am,” Steve replies cordially. He’s guarded, stiff, and therefore, formal. He watches Tony quietly.

 

Tony has yet to say a word. Worst of all, he doesn’t think he can. This is the man, the one whom he always heard about – the famous Steve Rogers aka “Captain America.” But as Tony stares at the blond man, he can’t bring himself to speak to him. Not yet. So instead, he grabs your hand and pulls you away. “Let’s have a dance, shall we?” he asks, and leads you onto the middle of the ground floor, away from the other three.

 

Pepper is left to apologize for Tony’s behavior, something’s she not unused to doing. Although, she did expect him to have better manners about this. This leaves Steve angry and annoyed. So as he listens to the two women talk, he watches you.

 

Tony sways you about the floor, his busy mind trying to figure things out. There’s a strange energy that emanates from his chest. Finally, his eyes land on your face. They take you in properly. “How did the old man win such a beauty?” Tony asks, trying to pull a cocky grin onto his lips.

 

You roll your eyes at the flattery. You’ve heard it all by now; it doesn’t really phase you anymore. “He kind of found me,” you answer. “I had a bad accident, and he helped me.”

 

“Ah, of course, he did,” Tony says irritably. “Always saving the day, being a hero.”

 

“Are you jealous of him?”

 

Tony glares down at you. “Certainly not,” he lies. “Just when one only hears about how he’s always perfect and saving the world, it’s refreshing to hear of his faults.” Tony gives you a twirl.

 

“He’s human, just like you. Humans make mistakes.”

 

“Not that one.”

 

You’re amused and completely baffled by how these two do not like one another, yet up till this point had never met. They each decided to dislike the other for whatever reason. _So why are they trying to meet one another?_ Neither seems to like the idea of being chummy with the other.

 

“Why did you fall for him?” Tony asks. “Because he was big and strong, with perfect teeth and hair?”

 

You shake your head. “He was kind to me,” you answer. “Sometimes, you just need someone to care.”

 

Something in Tony’s dark eyes softens.

 

Glass suddenly shatters, splaying everywhere on the floor. People scream and run. Your head turns, and you register the glowing eyes. You shove Tony away, your light sending him several feet back. The thing jumps at you, catching your leg and sending you to the floor. You don’t summon your staff in time before its teeth dig into your shin, your skirt tearing. You scream.

 

Gun shots fire off. Bullets hit the creature’s hide to no avail. It only gets the thing to look away from you. Carla stands there, pistol in hand. The beast runs for her. More people screech and panic.

 

“No!” you scream and send up a shield.

 

Carla fires her pistol too late. The bullet hits your shield and ricochets back at her. The beast smacks into the shield and gets thrown back.

 

After kicking off your heels, you struggle to get to your feet with your staff in hand, your right leg bleeding. The yellow eyes find you again. You brace yourself. It lunges and gets smacked away by Steve’s shield. He stands between you and the horrid thing, bearing his round shield. You grab onto his back to keep from falling, calling off your staff.

 

The thing claws and slams into the disc.

 

“Get out of here,” Steve calls back to you, slamming the creature away.

 

“No!” you shout back. “It won’t do any good.” _It’ll just follow me…. Actually!_

 

A strange beeping goes off, and a blast sends the creature rolling away. You and Steve take in the flying mechanism before you. Iron Man. Arrayed in red and gold, the robot-looking suit stares at you both. There’s a circle in the center of his chest that glows much like the mask’s eye sockets do.

 

“I’ll take care of this,” Tony says from inside. He holds up his hand and another blast sends the creature flying into the wall.

 

Carla sends more bullets into it.

 

People still scream and run but others stand and gawk and muse. They’re seeing the Iron Man suit for the first time. And for those who are paying attention, they’re realizing that the Captain America shield is being wielded. The crowd isn’t dispelling.

 

And that only causes the creature to stir more. It runs at them, clawing, biting, tearing. More bullets bounce off its black hide.

 

Something inside you grows unbearably exasperated. You send some light into your leg to reinforce it and let go of Steve. “HEY!!” you scream at it.

 

The creature’s glowing eyes turn to you.

 

“You want me, not them. Come get me!”

 

Steve calls out your name. Tony’s suit is recharging to blast again, hand up. And Carla is ready to shoot once more.

 

You send up a massive shield, walls that block everyone out, except for the creature and yourself. It has a direct line of path to you.

 

Tony accidently blasts himself into the wall from the rebound effect of your shield. Steve actually hits your shield with his own in order to get by, screaming your name. Carla catches herself before more bullets are released.

 

You turn and run out of the building, the thing loping behind you. You spot a motorcycle parked nearby and make a beeline for it. You jump on, taking out the kickstand, and start it up with your light. You drive away, the creature tailing you.

 

~*~

 

When your golden shield finally drops, Steve, Tony, and Carla take a moment to gather their bearings. And then Steve takes off running.

 

“Hold up,” Tony says, and drops in front of Steve with a heavy, clunky thud. The gold mask removes itself to reveal Tony’s face.

 

“Get out of my way, Tony,” Steve tells him, his voice hard.

 

“You aren’t fast enough to catch up to them.”

 

“I don’t care. Move.”

 

“No. Stay here. I’m going. That thing just destroyed my first floor, and that girl has questions to answer.” Tony’s mask replaces itself as he blasts into the air and out of the building.

 

Steve is about head out when Carla calls him. He glances back and finds the nurse with Pepper Potts, both of which are bleeding on the floor. He jogs over to them and kneels.

 

“Captain, we really need to take care of these people,” Carla tells him.

 

Steve glances around, realizing just how much devastation the creature managed.

 

“I’ve already called the police and for an ambulance,” Pepper adds. “But would you please stay with us?”

 

Steve wants to leave. His body is antsy to follow after you. But if he goes, no one will be here. It’s a decision he doesn’t want to make but he does. He sighs and shoulders his shield. Steve stands up tall, an air of authority setting into his shoulders.

 

All eyes fall on him, and everyone waits to hear what he has to say.

 

“To start off,” Steve announces, “I need everyone to stay calm. That creature is gone. For now, we need to get those who are hurt seen to. If you are well and able, please be of assistance to anyone that needs it. Things will get sorted out soon. Ambulances should arrive any minute now. Everything will be alright. I promise.”

 

The party attendants quietly move to do as they were told. Whispers float among them about the two heroic figures they’ve just seen. Not to mention the strange girl who was with them.

 

Steve pays them no mind. He wants to see to Pepper’s and Carla’s injuries. He finds the bridge to you and tugs on it. Suddenly he can feel where you are going and how you are doing. He feels the rush of your adrenaline, the slight edge of panic you carry, and the urge to take care of this problem. It takes everything within him to not leave and pursue. He keeps the channel open in order to keep up with you.

 

“Who the hell is that girl you’re with?” Pepper remarks as she staunches the blood in her leg. She hisses. “Fuck. I should’ve listened to JARVIS.”

 

“Where did you get that shield from?” Carla asks among Pepper’s mutterings.

 

Sirens can be heard in the distance.

 

Steve meets both their eyes with a stern look. “That doesn’t matter right now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then let's get chased by a creepy creature, because we are trouble lol


	19. The Plan

 

You’re once again stuck figuring out how to manage the grid system that this city is built on. You’re doing your best to keep the beast from causing any kind of damage to the traffic you’re weaving through. It results in you putting up shields so it’ll bounce and stay in the path you create as you go. You’ve already run through several things you want to try, finally you settle on one. You’re going to drown the fucking creep in the river.

 

You veer to head to your destination, the creature getting uncomfortably close to the bike’s tires. Relief floods you when you get sufficiently away from traffic and any other onlooker. You can feel the body of water growing closer. _Almost there_.

 

Suddenly you hear that high-pitched recharge sound again. A blast sends the creature flying into the bike, sending you, the bike, and the beast skidding across the ground. Pain shoots through your leg upon impact. You don’t have time for anything before the beast throws itself on you again. Summoning your sai, you keep the claws and teeth from completely shredding you to pieces. In one swift swing, you catch the corner of the beast’s eye.

 

The hellish thing flares back, whimpering – for once, actually feeling _pain_! Processing this revelation as fast as possible, you go to stab it again.

 

But another blast throws the creature off.

 

You’re sent skittering across the ground as the blast knocks you in the hip. “No, wait!” you scream. _I’ve finally figured it out!_ Yet you watch as Tony hits it again.

 

The creature faces you both, seemingly analyzing the situation with its yellow eyes. You see it stare you down, and you somehow know that it’s processing what it’s seeing. And then it hightails it out of there, gone in seconds.

 

You slump on the floor, frustrated, in pain, and exhausted. “Ugh, fuck you, Tony,” you mutter to yourself.

 

“JARVIS, track it, will you?” Tony says.

 

 _Good luck_ , you think derisively. You summon your staff after managing to get on your knees. A cry escapes you as your leg reminds you of its injury. And now your hip is damaged, too. Simply getting on your feet nearly makes you pass out. Speaking of which, your bare feet are cut up and aching. You lean heavily on your staff, taking a moment to apply some light to your hip.

 

“Why can’t my system track that creature?” Tony asks, suddenly stalking over to you. His mask is open, revealing his face inside.

 

You shrug and bring your light flow to a stop, dizzy with pain. It’s hard to think straight. You need to get back to Steve, you know that much.

 

Tony’s dark eyes run over your golden staff. He recognizes its material. It’s the same as your shields, which he’s already become acquainted with. He catches your weary gaze, and before he can stop himself, his mouth opens and asks, “Who are you? What are you? What the fuck was that thing? Where did it go? And why is it after you?”

 

You glare at him. “I have a straight answer for only one of those questions, two of them won’t be answered at all, and two I’m still speculating over,” you tell him flatly. “So, if you really want to have this discussion now, you’ll be sorely disappointed.” You start hobbling off, still leaning heavily on your staff.

 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Tony challenges, almost insulted that you blew him off.

 

“To your fucking tower,” you snap.

 

“And you’re going to hobble the whole way there?”

 

“If that’s what it takes.” You approach the motorbike. It still looks intact despite the hit it took. You can probably survive the drive back.

 

“Aren’t you just a ray of sunshine?” Tony mutters at you.

 

You glare back at him over your shoulder. “I’m sorry, but of the two of us, _I’m_ the one that got attacked, bitten, and blasted. You can either forgive the mood or deal with it.”

 

He scoffs and makes his decision. He stalks up to you and grabs your waist.

 

“ _The hell_!” you screech, and then get swung onto the suit’s back.

 

“Better hang on!” Tony teases and blasts off the ground, laughing at your scream.

 

Were it not for the suit, you’d be strangling him from how your staff hooks on his neck. You hold on with all your might, laying on his back as he flies over the city. Your eyes chase all the lights that stream below you. The wind feels good on your face but bumping against the suit’s metal only sends waves of pain throughout your body.

 

Stark Tower finally comes into view.

 

 _Steve_ , you call from within.

 

From the ground beneath, he looks up to the night sky. He watches the Iron Man suit fly to the top of the tower. And he can feel that you are with him. You’re back.

 

Steve and Pepper exchange quick glances before running to the elevator.

 

Tony hovers over the landing area at the top of his tower. “You can let go now,” he informs you casually.

 

You release your staff and slide off the metal suit. Your landing is less than gracious. And terribly painful. Once more, you haul yourself off the floor, groaning, and catch as Tony literally walks off his suit. A mechanism in the floor slowly removes the suit’s pieces off his body. He makes it look like a walk in the park. You huff and lean on your staff. _Not everyone has it so easy_.

 

“Oh, look at that, right on time,” Tony says as he follows the path inside.

 

 _Huh?_ You watch as he steps inside the huge penthouse-like area. At the far end of it, you see the glass elevator reach its stop. “Steve!” you gasp and shoot energy into your worn body to move forward, your staff disappearing.

 

He calls for you and runs out of the elevator as soon as the doors slide open. You fall into his arms just inside the entrance from the outside. He lifts you off your feet as he squeezes you tightly, earning himself painful cries from you. “I’m sorry, Starlight,” Steve apologizes as he searches you to inspect the new wounds you sport.

 

“It’s alright, love. I’ll live,” you tell him. “But I won’t last much longer. I need to heal.”

 

“I’ll see what I can do.” Steve gently scoops you up in his arms, and you snuggle into his warm chest. He’s no longer wearing his necktie, just his red dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He turns to face Pepper and Tony, who also hold one another. “We need to get back,” he informs them.

 

Pepper gasps quietly, her eyes falling on your sleeping form. You’re glowing from your healing process.

 

 _Damn it_ , Steve thinks. He wanted to get you out before they saw. _Too late now_.

 

“What’s going on?” she asks, mystified.

 

Steve sighs. “She’s healing,” he explains. “Now, if you’ll excuse us…” Steve makes his way back towards the elevator.

 

“Wait!” Tony calls.

 

Steve glances back.

 

“You shouldn’t have to travel with her like that,” he continues. “Stay here for the night.” He legitimately means this concern but there is a great part of him that really wants to study you. Because you are not normal, which makes you an intrigue, and Tony can’t help himself. He loves intriguing. And how can he crack your mystery if you’re gone?

 

“We have some spare rooms,” Pepper pipes up, immediately the helpful assistant that she is. She pulls away from Tony to join Steve at the elevator. “Let me show you to one, and you can recover there.”

 

Steve offers Tony a nod in gratitude and follows Pepper inside the elevator.

 

Tony watches as your glowing form descends into his tower. You leave his mind exploring all sorts of possibilities for what you are, and none make sense.

 

~*~

 

You wake the next day past lunchtime. Sitting up, you rub sleep out of your eyes then search out the strange room you’re in. In the corner on the armchair rests your tattered dress and Steve’s shield. Somehow your red heels joined them there. You wave your hand and a thin golden layer covers the objects, and then you slide off the bed.

 

You quickly discover that the place is more of a suite rather than just a room. You explore the various rooms. There’s a kitchen area, a small living area, a large bathroom, and the bedroom. The main sitting area faces out, so the wall is just floor to ceiling windows revealing New York City down below.

 

It’s a beautiful sight. The tower sits above the city so you can look down into the grid and see its vast layout. You try memorizing the layout as you take it in, but, really, you’re just admiring it from afar. And it’s as you gaze out that you realize that this overstuffed, noisy city has developed a special place in your heart. It’s annoying. It’s loud. It’s far too crowded. Yet you wouldn’t change it. It is what it is. And that comes with charm as well. You understand why Steve loves it so.

 

“Good afternoon, Miss,” a voice says over the room.

 

You jump and search the room, immediately on the defensive. But you don’t feel anyone else in the suite.

 

“Pardon me, Miss,” the voice continues. It has an accent different from the one’s the Americans you know have. “I did not mean to frighten you.”

 

“Where are you?” you ask it, eyes still searching.

 

“Oh, I am not a physical entity. I am artificial intelligence, a computer system worked into the building. My name is JARVIS.”

 

Your posture relaxes, and you stand up straight again. “Oh. JARVIS,” you muse. “A computer system for a building? Is that a normal thing?”

 

“No, ma’am, not really.”

 

“Is this a Tony thing then? A way for him to keep up with his technology so that he doesn’t have to?”

 

“You are very perceptive, ma’am.”

 

You laugh. You almost think the computer has a sense of humor. “So am I alone here?” you ask JARVIS.

 

“No, ma’am,” he replies. “Mr. Stark is working upstairs. Miss Potts is in the kitchen if you are interested in some lunch. And I was told to inform you, Captain Rogers stepped out to retrieve some things and will return promptly.”

 

Worry blossoms in your chest. “Is Steve okay? Do you know?”

 

“Yes, ma’am. He is in perfect health.”

 

You sigh in relief. “Good.”

 

“I just received a notice that Mr. Stark would like to see you in his work room,” JARVIS informs you. “If you head out and into the hallway, the elevator is to your far left.”

 

You follow the instructions and make your way into the elevator. You push the button you believe will take you to the top. The box lifts at a speed that’s faster than other elevators you’ve been in so far. As you wait, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the reflective metal on which the button box sits. You’re barefoot and wearing blue, fleece pants and a white shirt. _They must be Pepper’s_ , you think as you note how the hems of the pantlegs are rolled up. You gaze out at the city waiting to reach the top.

 

“Here you are, ma’am,” JARVIS states, and the elevator door slides open.

 

Tony is sitting on a stool, the Iron Man suit standing before him, tinkering away. “How’d you sleep?” he asks loudly so you can hear him.

 

“Fine,” you answer, taking in the fancy penthouse area that flows into the workshop above it.

 

“All healed up?” Tony asks, glancing back at you. His intelligent, dark eyes scan you. “You don’t look like a nightlight anymore.”

 

You cock a brow at him. You watch him stand, cleaning his hands on a rag. He’s wearing an undershirt and at the center of his chest a glowing circle can be seen. “Are you sure _I’m_ the nightlight?” you counter. _That must be the source of energy I felt last night_. It makes you curious to find out what it is.

 

He swaggers closer. “Debatable. I’m _certainly_ not the one that broke my building, or invited that hellish dog here to feast on my guests.”

 

You cross your arms. “You think I did those things on purpose?”

 

“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.”

 

You’re starting to realize that the cocky look he wears is a common thing. His face just automatically rests like that. “Why do you care? This isn’t your city. I did my best to keep the damage to a minimum. You’re the one that got in the way.”

 

“Didn’t feel like it when your golden fields nearly sent me through the walls.”

 

You bark a laugh. “You should’ve tried harder,” you mutter to yourself. “It’s not my fault you don’t know the properties of my shields.”

 

“Those are _shields_?” Tony asks, incredulously. “Made up of what?”

 

“Nothing that is of access to you,” you tell him, a strict look in your eye.

 

“Pardon,” JARVIS cuts in, “but Captain Rogers has returned. Agent Castillo is with him.”

 

“Send them up,” Tony responds and turns back to his suit.

 

You rub your eyes wearily. You’re already anticipating the lashing that’s coming, and not from Steve.

 

In a few moments the elevator dings, and its doors slide open.

 

Your heart swells when you watch Steve exit the elevator. He looks as he should, wearing jeans and a blue shirt, hair slightly mussed. He carries a small duffle bag in one hand. You let yourself get engulfed in his warm embrace. Resting against his chest, you listen to his heartbeat, and cling to his strong back. You feel his compassion wrap around you, as well as his strength and care.

 

If Steve could keep you right here, in his safety, he would. Unfortunately, he’s beginning to understand the challenges of such a wish. Not that it’s going to stop him from trying.

 

Carla calls your name, and you turn to look at her. She’s wearing white pants and a coral blouse that complements her tan coloring beautifully. Her hair is in a high ponytail again. Her body language doesn’t read off as mad, but her eyes tell you that she’s pissed. A scabbed-over cut runs the length of her high cheekbone.

 

Pepper sits on a tall stool at the bar. She’s in a white blouse and a black pencil skirt, her left foot bandaged. Tony has joined her there.

 

You meet Carla’s brown eyes again.

 

“I expect you to explain yourself,” she tells you sternly.

 

You don’t respond, just leave Steve and walk up to Pepper. “Let me see your foot,” you ask of her. Gently, you undo the bandage and find her swollen ankle. Claw marks run from her calf all the way down to her toes. “This won’t hurt since no bone is broken,” you tell her and apply your light.

 

Carla, Tony, and Pepper all watch with wide eyes at the golden healing. Steve observes calmly from where he stands. He’s never seen you heal someone else other than yourself but seeing you do it only makes him admire you more. He sees your concentration, understands the care with which you do your job, and loves it.

 

“There you go,” you say and set Pepper’s foot down. The wound is completely healed. There’s no swelling, no claw marks, no scratches. Her pale skin is perfectly sewed together. You rise and face Carla. You’re impressed when she doesn’t flinch as you touch her cheek. Your light sews up her cut, making it disappear, once more leaving her beautiful face flawless.

 

When you pull away, Carla’s hand flies to her cheek. She doesn’t feel the bruise that was there this morning. No scabbing interrupts the path of her fingers on her skin.

 

You return to stand with Steve, who immediately sets an arm around your waist.

 

Three pairs of eyes gape at you. “Okay, well,” Tony stammers out, “if no one’s going to say it, I will: That’s not normal, glow stick.”

 

“I know what happened last night looks really bad on my part,” you admit. “I promise that I did not intend for that thing to follow me to the party. My aim was not to bring harm to any of those people, or any of you. I’m not an enemy. I swear it on whatever you people find good and sacred.” You look Tony in the eye. “I know that’s not normal. _I’m_ not normal. I’m not… someone you typically run into here on Earth. Please don’t probe any further. I won’t tell you more about myself.”

 

Steve pulls you closer to him. It almost feels like he’s trying to shield you with his body from them.

 

“And _you_ are okay with this?” Tony spits out, pointing at Steve. “You, of all people, _you_ are okay with this?”

 

“That’s none of your concern, now is it?” Steve replies evenly. “You don’t get to dictate whom I share my affections with.”

 

Tense silence falls over the group before Pepper finally speaks. “Why don’t we all sit down?” she proposes. “I think that’ll make things easier. Anybody care for something to drink?”

 

Tony proceeds to make himself and Carla some alcoholic drinks. They both look like they need them. Pepper on the other hand makes herself, Steve, and you steaming mugs of coffee, which you all feel like you desperately need. Steve hands you the duffle bag and quietly explains that he brought you clothes to change into and your pack.

 

With Pepper’s guidance, you are shown to the bathroom where you go and change. Immediately you feel worlds better being in your own clothes and having your journal back. You quickly answer Tom’s questions about how you’re doing and how things are going, letting her know that you’re fine and everything else is fine. If she probes, you can explain things better later.

 

Everyone finally settles down on the couches. You press close into Steve, pulling your feet up. He keeps an arm around you. The other three sit across the way.

 

“Okay,” Carla begins, “fine. Details about you aside, were you the one that stole the Captain’s shield?”

 

“Yes,” you answer, thinking back to how you left the shield protected in the room you woke up today. It’s still in there, untouched.

 

“Why?”

 

“Because the first time the creature appeared, it nearly attacked Steve, and he had nothing to defend himself with. I didn’t want that to happen again.”

 

“When did you steal it?”

 

“A few nights ago.”

 

This information annoys her. She doesn’t like that she didn’t know any of this until now. “What else did you take?” she continues.

 

You shake your head. “Nothing. Information, I suppose,” you tell her.

 

She immediately knows that you’re referring to the files. Obviously, she can’t ask further about them, not with the others around. She also can’t ask about the other rooms, whether you went in them or not. Though, at this point, she assumes you did.

 

“My father made that shield,” Tony remarks, an argument hidden in his voice.

 

“Yes, and he gifted it to Steve, making it _his_ ,” you retort. You can read how this might become a three-way argument if anyone continues the subject.

 

“That is not the problem right now,” Steve interjects, ending that conversation. “We need to get rid of that creature before it brings any more harm to the city.”

 

Tony rolls his eyes over to Steve. “And how do you suppose we do that when we can’t even track the thing?” he asks. “Do you have some kind of _plan_ to lure it back?”

 

“Yes, I do.”

 

They have a stare-off before Pepper asks, “And what is your plan, Captain?”

 

He moves his blue eyes to her. “We clear off a perimeter and set up an ambush,” Steve explains. “Containing the creature will make taking it out easier. We’ve all seen how fast it is, and it’s not afraid of attacking.”

 

“Okay, that all sounds good and great, but how are you going to get it there?” Tony pushes. “And where are you going to put it?”

 

“Central Park.”

 

Carla’s eyebrows rise. “That… would actually work really well,” she concedes. “I can set up the perimeter and keep everyone out. Tony, if you’re willing, you can help me make sure that no one gets in, and that the thing doesn’t get out. But that will only last for so long.”

 

“We will only need a small block of time once the creature is inside,” you put in. “I’ll take care of it.”

 

Steve glances down at you. He knows you will slay the beast, but he doesn’t like that he has to let you do it, likely on your own.

 

“And what assures you that it’s even going to show up?” Tony asks.

 

Steve let’s out a heavy sigh. This is the part he doesn’t like. And he’s steeling himself for answering, but you beat him to it.

 

“I’m going to serve as bait,” you inform them. You've known that since Steve proposed the plan.

 

“What? Why?” Pepper asks.

 

“It’s been given my scent to track. It only wants me. So I’m going to stand out there and wait for it. More than likely I’ll have to cut my hand or something. The smell of blood will draw it faster.”

 

Pepper blanches before turning to Steve and asking, “And you’re going to _allow_ that?”

 

He nods slowly. “I have to,” he answers.

 

Carla admires the man for his objectivity in the situation. For someone who’s known for thinking and acting with his heart, he’s doing well to hold himself back like this to get the job done. “It’s settled then,” she states. “Tomorrow morning the park will be cleared out, and Tony will set up an inner perimeter where we will contain the dog. Captain, you’ll serve as an alert. If we can create a specific path for it to follow, it would be for the best.”

 

“I can do that,” you tell her. “I’ll leave it a trail. It needs to know that it's following _me_ , anyway.”

 

“Perfect. Once it’s in there, it’ll be on you to finish it,” Carla tells you, her gaze hard. “You want to gain any trust back? Get rid of that thing.”

 

“I will.”

 

Carla watches you with an air of a judge. Her eyes are ready to present you as guilty. "Any damage it does will rest _solely_ on you."

 

"Understood."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tension, tension everywhere! Ain't it great? -_-
> 
> On a brighter note, I'm so excited for the next chapter! Things are coming together! =D


	20. The Execution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ready to see how this collab works out?

 

The ding from your cellphone alerts you to the incoming text message. You flip open the phone and read the text. Carla says they’re ready. You reply and stow the phone away back in your pack. You’re wearing the Asgardian leathers again for better protection and have braided your hair into a single plait. Summoning one of your sai, you leave a long cut on your left hand then call it off. You begin your jog out.

 

Drops of blood fall to the ground, airing your scent.

 

You discovered the evening before how none of these city people have ever hunted an animal, nor have been hunted by one, nor have tracked one before. You recall rolling your eyes as you had to explain what the differences are between a manhunt and an animal hunt. One is significantly easier to do, and it’s _not_ the manhunt.

 

After crossing several blocks, you come upon Central Park. The estranged green among the silver city is a welcome jewel in your eye. Oh, how you miss your forest! You make your way in, heading for the open, central fields of grass.

 

The park is mysteriously quiet and unnaturally empty. It leaves an unsettling feeling in your stomach. You’ve grown so used to the masses of people in this city that such a lonely residence is uncanny.

 

 _Good_ , you assure yourself. Carla’s agents and the police force seem to be keeping everyone successfully at bay. _There needs to be no intruders_.

 

Something prickles the back of your neck, making the hair there stand on end.

 

You stop at the entrance to the park to look around. Your eyes scan the block around you. You know you won’t be able to feel the creature due to its undead-like nature so you must find it in other ways. But you don’t see or hear anything. It’s nearby, though. Lest it’s just your nerves bringing up this paranoia. You finish your jog over and find two people waiting for your arrival: Steve and Tony.

 

Both are in jeans and dark shirts. Their physique really stands out to you at this moment. Tony is on the leaner side with long, strong legs and an all-around narrower frame. But even his arms and chest are a testament to his strength. Steve of course has the powerful chest emphasized by his broad shoulders. Following his narrow waist down, Steve’s legs let you know how much he’s run before.

 

Both men dwarf you in height and body, but you’re used to this by now. Plus, you’re about to be bait for some hellish creature. You’re okay if these two guys are around.

 

There’s a large, metal pod thing behind Tony that you assume holds the Iron Man suit. He wears silver, metallic bracelets on each wrist. Steve’s shield is on his back. His blue eyes keep scanning the cleared area. His body is tense.

 

“What movie set did you just step out of?” Tony jokes, eyeing your foreign garb.

 

Steve, though aware of what it means that you are dressed so, finds a sense of comfort and familiarity in the strange outfit. It takes him back to the first night you two met.

 

“Believe it or not, this is real armor,” you inform Tony.

 

His dark brows lift in genuine surprise. “Well there’s something you don’t see every day.”

 

You shrug. “Is everything set up?”

 

“Yup! Is it coming?”

 

“I think it’s nearby,” you tell him with a nod. You squat and wipe off the rest of your blood in the grass then quickly heal up the cut. As you rise, your eyes run over the trail you left. “It’s watching me at this very moment.”

 

“Go further in,” Steve says after a quick assessment of the information. “We’ll try to get out of its line of sight. It’ll come out soon.”

 

You nod and jog further into the open, grassy area. The park is beautiful in the morning sunlight. You make a mental note to bring Steve here when you’re not trying to kill something. With no one else around and only the wind as company, the park almost feels haunted from how lonely it is. You feel small within it.

 

Suddenly there’s a clash of voices. As Steve calls out your name, a small voice yells out, “Mom?”

 

Your heart stops. _No! Oh, no! No!_ You seek out the owner of the voice.

 

A skinny, little girl meanders through the grassy field, her brunette pigtails swinging in the wind. She clutches a little doll to her chest. “Mom!” she yells. “Where are you?”

 

 _How did she get **in**_ , you think frantically as you take off for the girl. “Hey!” you yell. “Hey!” You don't register that Tony and Steve are calling out for you.

 

The girl hears and see you coming. She starts hurrying towards you. “Have you seen my mom?” she asks you, her voice trembling. “I can’t find her.” She starts running to meet you.

 

_Shit, shit, shit! I need to get her out!_

 

Suddenly an electric field goes up behind the little one with a loud cracking sound. The hum scares you and the girl to a stop to figure out what’s going on. Both search out the new oddity. The blue, static field connects at four corners, pillars that Tony set up earlier, that cover the length and width of the field. They trap you inside.

 

That’s when your stomach bottoms out. Because you know what those connecting fields mean.

 

The creature is _here_.

 

“Lily!!” a scream pierces through the electric hum.

 

You and the girl turn to look past the barrier to find a woman running towards it. Carla, another agent, and a policeman intercept her and hold her back.

 

“Mom!” the girl screams and starts running for the same barrier.

 

“No, wait!” you yell at her. A growl behind you catches your attention from across the field, sending a tremor through your body.

 

There stands the black beast, yellow eyes glowing. A sense of hunger and rage defines its massive body. Its teeth are bared, and the sunlight glimmers off its dark claws. It sets off on a run to get you.

 

“STEVE!” you scream and run for the girl.

 

The girl lets out an ear shattering shriek, for she has spotted the hideous creature. And all she can see is that it’s coming towards her.

 

You catch her, pick her up, and do a near 180-turn and keep running.

 

The creature skitters for a second before it turns and follows. To its surprise, it slams head first into Steve’s shield. It sends the beast flying back.

 

“How did she get in?” Steve cries out.

 

“I don’t know!” you yell back, holding the girl tightly to your chest. Her legs wrap around your waist in a crushing hold. “Where’s Tony?”

 

“Keeping the field up. The dog messed up one of the pillars. He can’t leave it without the field going down.”

 

_Fuck!_

 

The creature snarls at the two of you and begins its attack.

 

Steve rams the beast with his shield, leaving a ring in the air. “Go,” Steve orders. “Get her out.”

 

“What? No!” you screech.

 

His blue eyes meet your frantic gaze. “Get her out. Then I’ll let you kill it.”

 

Your heart and stomach squeeze painfully tight. But you know he’s right.

 

“Go!”

 

You steel your heart and finally acquiesce. You dart for the field closest to where the girl’s mom is behind. Behind you, you hear Steve knock the creature away again with his shield, sending him farther from you. Somewhere you’re aware of the distant yells coming from Tony, insisting that you hurry.

 

You get away and set the girl down. She immediately attaches herself to your legs, weeping. You can’t help but look over and watch is horror as Steve takes on the beast. You want to run back and help him but there’s a problem to see to. You glance back over the electric field and see the girl’s mom wailing and fighting against Carla, two more agents, and a policeman. You need to get the girl back to her mom. As much as it wrenches your heart, you keep your back to Steve and think quickly.

 

“Momma!!” the girl screams.

 

You kneel and take the girl’s shoulders. “Hey, hey, hey, look at me,” you tell her, bringing false sweetness into your voice. You put on a smile for the girl, wiping her cheeks. “It’s okay. Things are okay. I’m going to get you to your mom, okay?”

 

The tears abate slightly as the girl clings to her doll. “Really?” she asks with a sniffle, eyes wide. “But she’s over there.”

 

“Yeah! I know, I know. But I’m about to get you over there!” You glance back and see how Steve fights off the creature. Your heart hurts as you turn back and focus on the girl, smiling again. “Hey, have you ever seen a shooting star?” you ask her.

 

This time the girl nods, a smile slowly growing on her features after some sniffles. “Mom told me to make a wish when I see them,” she tells you excitedly, her little body still trembles as she clutches her doll to her chest.

 

You’re both obviously trying to ignore what’s happening behind you. “Yes! She’s right!” you say. “Well, how would you like to be a _real_ shooting star?”

 

“Really?” The girl’s eyes are bright at the thought.

 

“Yeah! Can you show me how to be a star?”

 

The girl takes a step back and bursts into a jump, her arms and legs out like she’s about to do a jumping-jack.

 

“That’s a fantastic star!” Your eyes dart back but immediately turn back to the girl. “Now make sure you land for your mom just like that, okay? And make a really _big_ wish! Okay? You’re going to be a shooting star!” You hear Steve cry out but you don’t look. “Ready?”

 

The girl nods excitedly.

 

“Here you go! Hold on tight to your dolly,” you tell her. “Make a wish, okay?” You summon your wave of light and wrap her up in it, and just like on the day you shot over to Tom, you send the girl shooting over the fields to her mom. You watch her land safely in a shower of light, and then you finally turn your back to them.

 

The beast snaps at Steve’s feet, catching one of his ankles. Steve uses the edge of the shield to dig into the beast’s muzzle which gets it off quickly. But catches of blood mark Steve’s jeans and shirt and right arm.

 

You scramble to pull off your pack. Your nerves make you fumble with the zipper, and you waste precious seconds getting the bag open. Once you do, you dig around. You pull out the twine and stretch it out. You drop the pack and face Steve.

 

Now the creature is on top of him, clawing at the shield furiously. It’s desperately trying to get to Steve’s face.

 

Tony yells something in the background.

 

You put your fingers to your lips and whistle loudly.

 

The beast lifts its yellow eyes to you.

 

“Come get me!” you scream.

 

The hellish fiend bounds off the shield and runs full speed at you, teeth bared as it snarls menacingly. It holds your death sentence in its glowing eyes.

 

You trigger the magic within the twine and summon forth the weapon within. A beautiful bow made of the finest wood forms in your hands. Arrows clatter at your feet. You grab one and nock it, already aiming.

 

The beast leaps high into the air with a growl, ready to take you out with its glistening claws.

 

In one swift movement, you draw the arrow back to your chin and loose it. _Whoosh!_

 

There’s a nasty _kachink_ that leaves the creature whining before it collapses on the ground. The arrow has pierced its yellow eye and now sticks out of the back of its head. Dead.

 

The electric fields turn off, and the hum disappears with them.

 

“Good fucking riddance,” you speak over its prone form, taking several moments to just breathe in the silence it has left. _It’s gone_. You reach down to pick up the cluster of arrows at your feet. You'll get your pack in a moment.

 

Suddenly an old link comes to life within you. It’s Layne’s! His genuine worry floods you. He hasn’t felt his magic be triggered in the weapon since the breakup. For you to be using it now means that you’re in serious trouble. At least this is what he assumes, since things have gone untouched. Until now.

 

You understand the concern. You feel a similar sentiment currently as you feel this link resurfacing. You thought he had dropped it. Yet here it is. You communicate your safety back to him. _I’m fine. I’m well. I just needed the aid_.

 

This calms the rush of worry.

 

Footsteps bring your attention to find Steve approaching. Apprehension defines his features as he calls your name. He has his shield shouldered, his shirt is torn in several places and blood seeps through. There’s a slight limp in his gait. Yet all he wants to do is reach you. “Are you alright?” he asks.

 

You trade the arrows into your bow hand and hold out your empty hand to him. “I need to show you something,” you tell him softly.

 

Confused and worried, Steve takes your hand, and you open a new bridge. One where Steve and Layne get to meet. Steve gasps in shock and wonder. Even Layne is taken aback by the gathering.

 

You take a second to let them get situated. _I’ve met someone, Layne_ , you explain. _This is Steve_. You squeeze Steve’s hand.

 

Even from worlds away the two size each other up, but they do so graciously. They understand what is past and what is present. And time moves on, people and all.

 

 _Promise to protect her_ , Layne asks. _She’s a whirlwind_.

 

 _I would do nothing less for my girl_ , Steve replies.

 

There’s an acknowledgment, and your heart swells at their acceptance of one another.

 

 _I wish you both the best_ , Layne continues respectfully.

 

 _We do, too_ , Steve returns kindly.

 

The bridge is fading.

 

 _Take care_ , you tell Layne.

 

 _Stay safe_ , he remarks and pulls away. His line disappears, and the bridge dissipates. The bow and arrows return to their twine form. It hangs limp in your hand.

 

The exertion has you falling back.

 

Steve catches you and holds you to himself.

 

You search his face, his sky-blue eyes. “You’re here,” you whisper, “with me.”

 

“I’m here, Starlight, for all measures,” he says softly.

 

You wrap your hands around his neck and hang onto him tightly. You’re safe in his strong embrace. And you don’t plan on letting him go.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? lol
> 
> I finally got to bring so many things together!! \^w^/


	21. Sweet Delights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff & smut, fluff & smut... yeah! ;D
> 
> Over twenty chapters in with over 130 kudos, y'all are the best! <3
> 
> This story is drawing to a close pretty soon, so hold tight!

 

Things move in a haze after you pull yourself back to the reality around you. You gather your bag and put away the twine inside. You set to healing Steve’s wounds. With the same ability, you fix his torn clothes. When you’re done, you stand with Steve, his arm around your waist.

 

Carla and a swarm of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents arrive. They’re all in uniform, wearing black slacks, white shirts, and black jackets. They immediately take to wrapping up the beast. Even as they carry it away, you can see your arrow sticking out of its dull, yellow eye.

 

“Well done,” Carla tells you as her coworkers clean up the rest of the field. “The girl told her mom all about how the ‘star lady’ was really nice to her and let her be a shooting star. She even mentioned how Captain America was protecting them.”

 

A slight blush touches your cheeks. “Am I in trouble for getting us noticed?” you ask.

 

Carla shakes her head. “Let her tell her stories. It builds morale. This city could use some heroic legends.”

 

“Really?” Steve asks skeptically, blond brow raised.

 

“Yes, Captain. I think New York could use a reminder of their patron, American hero.”

 

There’s a hard edge within Steve that starts to give under that news. To be remembered for who he was and who he still is, as he’s discovered, brings a strange reassurance that he’s not had since he’s woken up in the modern world.

 

Tony has collected his equipment and comes to join the gathering. “That fucking hellhound broke my toys,” he announces on his way in. “You killed it, right? ‘Cause if not, I get the next go at it.”

 

“It’s dead, Tony,” Steve informs the man.

 

“Well, good. Good riddance. Now I can return to my tower in peace and start on repairs.”

 

Carla rolls her eyes. “Why don’t you take Pepper on a vacation? You’ve been working nonstop since you’ve arrived. Go check out the sights.”

 

“That sounds nice,” you quietly add.

 

Tony immediately feels that the consensus is against him. He gives a dramatic sigh. “Yeah, alright,” he admits. “I’ll take Pepper out for a while. I think we’ll go visit Niagara Falls!”

 

Amazingly enough, Steve gives him a firm nod of approval, smile on his lips.

 

Tony’s dark eyes shift over to you. “Good job, firefly. If you ever feel like letting me run technology experiments on you, just drop on by the tower,” he tells you with a cheeky smirk.

 

You laugh at him. “Yeah, okay, I’ll be sure to do that if I’m ever _that_ bored,” you joke.

 

He digs in his pocket and draws out a little card. “And, if you’re ever in a hole, call me.”

 

You take the little card and note that it has Tony’s phone number on it along with some other information. You glance up at Steve in surprise.

 

Steve files away the information and holds a hand out to Tony. “Thank you,” he states earnestly.

 

Tony shakes the hand and heads out, leaving everyone with a farewell wink.

 

~*~

 

“So you’re an archer,” Steve states rather than questions.

 

You giggle as your forehead rests against his cheek.

 

You convinced Steve to stay behind in the park. The trees and the green were too sweet to leave just yet. Therefore, before the park refilled with everyone, you and Steve found a nice large tree to climb up into. Steve sits in the crook of the trunk where the limbs start to spread, and you are perched in his lap. Bag and shield are tucked into a crevice, colors facing in. The lovely foliage keeps you hidden from prying eyes, lest someone walks up.

 

“Yes,” you answer, “I am. I loved archery.”

 

“You don’t anymore?”

 

You pull back to meet his curious, blue gaze. “No, I do, very much. But that’s the first time I’ve shot an arrow in a few years.”

 

“You won’t take it up again?” he asks, pushing back a stray strand of hair.

 

A sad smile falls upon your lips. “Doubt it. There doesn’t seem to be a real need to shoot enemies down from a distance here, or in my most recent world visits. I’ve been doing fine with my bow-staff and other close contact weapons.” You shrug. “Maybe if I find an archery place here I’ll take it up as an actual sport rather than a fighting style.”

 

Steve chuckles at your hopeful smile. “I’d like to see that,” he remarks.

 

He understands that your timidity about taking archery back up comes from your past because it’s so closely knit to your former love, but he doesn’t want to see you give it up. He sees how much it’s a part of who you are. He watched you be that former archer you once were. And even in the midst of worry and fear, you were beautiful, a sight of confidence and fierce strength. You gave him his art back and his shield. If he can, he’ll give you archery back.

 

Steve leans in and kisses your lips.

 

You hold his face in your hands, savoring his touch. You don’t know what you would do without this man. You would certainly still exist, but you’d lack so much.

 

He pulls back only to nuzzle your nose and cheek. “Let’s go home,” he whispers.

 

You agree before giving him one more kiss. From there you carefully move onto a limb and leap out of the tree thoroughly scaring a couple walking by. “Sorry,” you quickly apologize.

 

Steve tosses you your bag, which you slip on, and then sends down the shield.

 

A gasp from behind startles you, causing you to glance back at the couple that still stands there. “You’re that light lady those people were talking about!” the woman exclaims. “The one who’s with-”

 

Steve drops from the tree and reclaims his shield, shouldering it.

 

This time the dude speaks up. “That’s Captain America,” he tells his girlfriend. “Dude, you’re Captain _fucking_ America!”

 

Steve chuckles, amused by the hype. “I prefer to go by Steve,” he tells the guy.

 

You can’t help your laugh, but the moment they start calling out to their friends a sense of panic rises. You’re about to be a spectacle, so you start pushing Steve. “Go, go,” you insist. “ _Run_!”

 

People are coming. Fast. They chase after you, calling out all sorts of things. A lot of them have their phones out.

 

“Wait! Show us something!” one voice sticks out from the rest.

 

You skitter to a stop, deciding to humor them.

 

Steve pauses, curious to watch what you’re about to do.

 

Summoning your light to your hands, you start forming discs about the size of an average frisbee. Putting some extra energy in, you color your golden frisbees to look like Steve’s shield.

 

“Oh, they’ll like that,” Steve remarks.

 

Smiling, you send them flying at the crowd. Next you send out streams of light in the forms of little, glowing balls bounding across the park. Wherever they touch the grass, they leave wildflowers.

 

People scramble around trying to get one of the shimmering items. Their distraction allows for your escape. But laughter rings in your wake and in their enjoyment.

 

~*~

 

Steve unlocks the apartment door to let you both inside. The cozy, little place is a welcome sight.

 

You toss your bag on the couch then stretch your arms and back. Next you start undoing your braid, stretching your neck out as well.

 

Steve removes his shoes at the entrance and gently sets the shield against the wall before glancing up to catch how your hair unfurls down your back. A smile turns up his lips at your closed eyes as you scratch your scalp. He can feel you slowly relaxing, slowly letting go of the day’s worries and events.

 

There’s something about you that seems strangely lighter, freer. It shows in the gentle slope of your shoulders, the tranquil set of your facial features, and the ease of your movements. Right now, you have no care in the world, and it lets your spirit shine through.

 

You let out a contented sigh and remove your boots then begin taking off the leather’s bracers.

 

Steve’s sky-blue eyes roam over your slender figure. Once more he’s aware of how your outfit does nothing to hide your curves but only serves to point them out. He strides over and places his hands at your hips, drawing you to him.

 

A smirk pulls at your mouth. The heat from his chest slowly encompasses you from behind. You feel his soft lips at your neck. His hands move to your stomach. You toss the bracers onto the couch with your pack before wrapping your hands up around his neck, your fingers running through his hair.

 

“You know,” Steve speaks at your ear, his breath warm, “the first time I saw you, I had to remove your armor. I found myself desperately hoping you’d be wearing something underneath.”

 

A laugh rings from you. His nose teases your jaw but it’s his hands that are distracting as they roam about your torso. “And now?” you ask.

 

“Now I find myself wishing for quite the opposite.” His teeth catch your throat which causes your breath to hitch.

 

You bring your arms down in time for Steve to spin you around to face him. Your hands immediately go to the back hemming of his shirt and start tugging it up. You get it free of his shoulders and head then drop it on the floor. This gives your hands the freedom to roam over his bare chest. “Fuck damn, man,” you mutter chuckling. “It’s still so not fair that you’re _this_ good looking. Damn pecks and biceps, fucking abs.”

 

Blue eyes twinkling with mirth and a growing fire, Steve works on the leather’s laces. “Don’t worry,” he replies easily. “I don’t come close to rivaling your beauty.”

 

The fire in your cheeks is short-lived when he takes your lips with his, fervor growing.

 

He gets the chest piece undone and quickly strips you of it along with the undershirt and bra. The blue fire that is his gaze rakes over you, greedily drinking you in. “You, my star, are wondrous,” Steve pronounces in his husky voice before he takes one of your breasts in his hand and the other in his mouth.

 

You moan as he sucks on the nipple, sending ripples of sensation pulsing through your body.

 

Steve undoes your pants and shimmies them down your legs, pausing only to leave kisses at the top of your inner thighs. He lets you step out before coming back up.

 

You quickly set yourself to undoing his belt and then his jeans, but he’s the one that works them off. The next thing you know, Steve’s picking you up and taking you to the bedroom. The door shuts behind you. Steve deposits you on the bed and hovers above. He kisses your lips before kissing down your neck and then your chest. His hands trace the curve of your legs then move down your thighs. They come back together underneath your ass.

 

Steve slides you down to the edge of the bed where he kneels on the floor. He moves your legs over his shoulders and kisses his way down to your entrance. He finds you wet and sweet, and as his tongue rolls over you, you fist the sheets under hand, back arching against the bed. Sounds of pleasure spill from your throat as Steve digs further.

 

Your hands move to his hair where you hold on tightly as his tongue and hands build you up. A cry escapes your lips. Your thighs clench and your toes curl, crying out, as you tighten in your release as he presses those triggering strokes within your entrance. He leaves you splayed on the bed, your body still tingling.

 

A laugh rumbles off Steve’s chest. He rises, picking you up as well, and moves you further up the bed. “Oh, we’re not done yet, dear heart,” he coos in your ear as he settles beside you.

 

Steve’s teeth nip at your earlobe while he fondles your breast. His mouth moves down to your other breast where he sucks and nibbles on the nipple. He eases his hand down your belly and between your legs. A finger slips inside to measure you out before a second follows to better fill you. He moves smoothly, quickly.

 

You emit a whine from your throat as pleasure fills you again. You have a hand in Steve’s hair again, and the other claws at his shoulder. He leaves bites on your breasts. He kisses down your stomach. He sucks on your neck, all the while his fingers keep playing you, faster and faster. You writhe until everything in you clenches once more. Sensation of golden pleasure sings through every fiber of your body. It leaves you breathing hard on the bed, watched by a set of delighted, blue eyes.

 

You decide it’s your turn now. As Steve moves out, you push off the bed and maneuver him onto his back, settling yourself on top. You take his lips, pulling at them, biting, as your nails dig into his strong shoulders. You run your tongue down and over his chest. You tease his hard nipples as you crawl further down his body. Your tongue roams over his shaft before you take him in your mouth, pulling at him.

 

Steve lets out a moan. The edge of your nails skim over his ribs and stomach. “Fuck, woman!” he hisses, body tightening.

 

You come up with a laugh.

 

“What?” he questions you.

 

“Nothing, I just got you to curse,” you smirk.

 

His retort is cut off when you swallow him again. Your hands play with his hips and ass. You suck and nip with your teeth, making him hiss and moan and almost buck. He tastes sweet, and you keep him just on the cusp of going over. You leave his tip with a kiss before moving yourself over him.

 

“I’m not done with you yet, Captain,” you purr. “Still gotta work you out some more.”

 

Steve’s eyes glint as he watches your smooth body straddle him. He welcomes your warm wetness as you slide down onto him. He fills you up, and for that, you start riding him. Now you make him writhe in response, his hands gripping your ass and thighs. He watches your fluid movements, feels how your slender body is in control of him.

 

You make such a contrast to him with your petite, soft form, while he is all strength and size. He sees how your wear your confidence. You know who you are and what you want. You stay true. Oh, how he loves it. But he also wants you, he wants to have you, and _he_ wants to be the one to take you.

 

Steve sits up and shifts you both around, pinning you to the bed. Your legs entwine with him as he pounds into you. You claw at his back and snap your hips at his growing speed. His mouth is at your neck and at your breasts as he’s finally peaking. You tighten around him once more at the sudden burst of the two bodies. Shared ecstasy floods the nerves and delights the body. Two presences wrapped up in one another allow the feelings to flow freely. Everything is expressed in this moment. And it leaves you both spent.

 

Steve pulls out but not before he’s graced your neck, your cheeks, and your nose with kisses.

 

A giggle escapes you as you run your fingers over him gently. “Oh, my love,” you whisper, “how you wear me so.” You kiss his lips and hold him close.

 

Steve holds you with a hand and moves the covers with the other. He settles you both underneath properly.

 

You lay tucked into him, listening to his heartbeat. It lulls you to sleep. Your mind at ease, your body at rest, and your heart at peace.

 

~*~

 

Things seem to return to normal rather quickly after a shower and some tidying up. Steve notices the fading marks on your neck and chest, revealed by your blouse’s wide neckline. It reminds him of the first time he did that, and he remembers the feeling of possession he had. It was a way of claiming you, something he could call his. And that’s exactly what you are, someone he can call his and claim as his own. Someone he can work to protect. Steve trails soft kisses down your marked neck, almost like soothing the bruises.

 

You and Steve spend the rest of the day lounging in the apartment. Settled on the couch, you take up a sketchpad, but rather than sketching, you begin to write. Your head lies in Steve’s lap as he watches television, his fingers tracing designs on your neck and exposed chest. You use your legs to press the pad against. Slowly, you create your beginning, introducing your character.

 

When you take a pause to review, Steve suddenly moves his hand and reaches over. He takes your pen and quickly sketches out your character in the corner of the page where there is still some white space. He hands you back your pen when he’s done.

 

It leaves you giggling. You flip the page and continue your story, this time purposefully leaving a space to sketch something within. Because sure enough, the moment you finish that page, Steve takes your pen once more and fills in the space with his sketch.

 

You turn the page with a smile, taking back your pen. “You should feel honored that I’m even letting you _read_ what I’m writing,” you joke.

 

“Always so private?” Steve counters.

 

You look up at his sky-blue eyes. “Typically.”

 

“Then I shall proceed to be honored, ma’am.” He gives you a lopsided smile and a wink.

 

Blushing, you return to your story. You leave him space to put in his art. Soon the pages are full of illustrated writings. Flipping through it brings a smile to your face, for it’s a portrayal of how you met Steve and how you’ve come to be here with him. It’s a strange journey but one worth noting.

 

Steve asks for the sketchpad-turned-storybook. You hand it to him then sit up to watch what he’ll do with it. He takes out his watercolor paints and begins to properly illustrate the story. This obviously will take a lot more time since the paints will have to dry. But watching him apply color to his own designs and even to your words is mesmerizing. You drink in the careful detail he gives and takes. Soon there is a watercolor sketch of yourself.

 

You rest your head against Steve’s shoulder. “This is incredible, Steve,” you marvel quietly.

 

He plants a kiss on your forehead. “It’s all for you, Starlight.”

 

~*~

 

The rest of the day was quiet, even into the next. Steve wakes feeling especially rejuvenated after the lovely evening’s events. After having a light breakfast, he works on the second page of your story. He hopes it’ll be dry by the time you wake up. And maybe it was the fact that you’ve both been toying with danger for the past week, but Steve really feels the need to have something from home. He finds himself searching the cupboards for ingredients.

 

You sleep late into the morning, so when you enter the living area you’re already dressed for the day. You walk out to a lovely aroma filling the rooms. The breeze from the spring day spreads it all around. Music plays in the background. You make your way to the kitchen where Steve stands at the sink. You walk up to him and encircle his waist with your arms, your cheek resting on his back.

 

“What are you making?” you ask him as you run your hands over his stomach and chest, which is only further encouraged by the soft fibers of his shirt.

 

“Strawberry tarts and some strawberry bread,” he answers as he washes his hands. “Old family favorites.”

 

That makes you smile. “It certainly smells good in here. Where did you get the strawberries?”

 

“Old Mrs. Crane.”

 

You giggle. “Maybe we should take some of the strawberry bread over to her. I think she’d like that. How is she doing?”

 

“Very well. Sweet as honey and sharp as a tack still.” Steve spins around to face you, your arms still around him. He strokes your hair then runs his fingers over your nose and lips. He leaves a kiss on your forehead.

 

“Need any help?” you offer.

 

Steve shakes his head. “The tarts are in the oven,” he explains. “I’m about to start kneading the bread.” He motions to the island behind you.

 

You glance back and find the collection of ingredients. He already has flour spread over the countertop to work the dough over. And an idea pops into your mind. You work to keep it from showing on your face. “Wonderful! I’ll leave you to it then,” you sing cheerily.

 

Steve gives your cheek a kiss and moves over to start creating the dough.

 

You listen to the music playing. It’s Jazz, the music used for Swing. The current song playing is upbeat and fast. You take up dancing there in the kitchen behind Steve.

 

He watches you out of the corner of his eye, smiling.

 

You give a twirl and stick your hand in the flour.

 

“Wha-”

 

Then promptly slap Steve’s butt, leaving a perfectly white, powdery handprint on his very well filled out jeans.

 

“Hey!”

 

Giggling, you quickly twirl away and then actually start moving faster, because he’s right on your tail.

 

Steve catches you in the living room and lifts you in a spin, making you squeal and laugh. When he sets you down, you turn to face him and slap your still powdery hand on his chest. With a smirk on his lips, Steve slaps both of his hands on your butt and squeezes. “I win,” he announces with a sly, lopsided grin.

 

You glance back and discover that his hands are indeed covered in flour. Your bum is now clearly marked by his large handprints. Once more, you are claimed by him, and it makes you grin. You slip your hands around his neck, easing your body closer to his. “And what is your prize, Captain?” you coo as your nose teases his jaw.

 

Steve’s body tightens. He grabs your ass again but this time picks you up. Your legs wrap around his waist. “You are,” he growls in your neck as he kisses you roughly. He takes you over to the dining table and sets you upon it. He quickly starts working on your pants.

 

“Steve, we’re right in front of the windows,” you tell him, though his whole presence keeps distracting you.

 

His blue eyes find yours. “Put up a shield,” he orders.

 

A golden shield goes up as you obey the sudden command. You feel this new air of authority fill him and can see it in his strong gaze.

 

No one would deny Steve’s status as a captain right now. He’s not being harsh, just in control. He removes your pants and underwear and quickly takes off your shirt and bra as well.

 

You cut in and remove his shirt then start on his pants. The moment they’re undone, Steve moves you closer to the edge only allowing you to take hold of his shoulders. He works his pants down and in the next second, he slips inside of you.

 

You let out a loud gasp which is quickly followed by a moan at his instant start. You hold tight to his back as he very quickly begins pounding into you, the table creaking beneath. Your legs wrap around his waist, and he holds you to him by your ass. His teeth prowl over your shoulders and upper arms. He gives each nipple it due, licking and sucking.

 

Steve’s hips snap against yours faster and faster. And you can hear yourself screaming his name softly as things begin to build. He starts whispering your name in your ear, how you feel in his embrace, how he feels inside you, sweet delights that only make your body sing all the more. Until finally he finishes inside you with your exotic body wrapped all around his, sharing in the energy you are both filled with.

 

You finally ease up on Steve and lie back on the table. He’s left you sore and panting.

 

He tickles you as his soft kisses leave a sweet trail on your skin. His hands run over our exposed body before bringing his face close to yours. He kisses along your jaw before asking in your ear, “How was that for fucking, dear heart?”

 

You giggle and find his lips with yours. “Marvelous, Captain,” you answer him. You kiss him some more, savoring the taste of his mouth and the feel of his lips. “Okay, now let me up so I can clean the floury mess we’ve made,” you tell him.

 

Steve gazes over the trail of flour that covers both the kitchen and part of the living room. Not to mention the state the dining table is left in. He just laughs. “I’ll leave you to it then,” he mocks.

 

You roll your eyes and let him help you up. The afternoon is taken up by strawberry bread and cleaning, and then finished off with music, dancing, and painting.

 

~*~

 

Loud knocking rouses you from your pleasant sleep. It’s so early that it even wakes Steve. He gets up, quickly throwing something on, and goes to answer the door.

 

In your half-asleep, half-awake state, you reach over the edge of the bed and find one of Steve’s shirts. You pull it on as a just in case thing. You’re just on the cusp of falling back asleep when the door opens again.

 

It’s not Steve’s silhouette in the doorway, though. Carla stands there, calling for you.

 

You force yourself to sit up, rubbing heavy sleep from your eyes. “Carla?” you question groggily. “What’s wrong?”

 

“I’ve been given orders to come fetch you,” she answers. “The director wants to meet with you.”

 

“Director? Who’s director?”

 

“S.H.I.E.L.D.’s. Director Fury.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How do you think THAT's gonna go? lol


	22. Fury's Interrogation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys!
> 
> I'm so sorry that it's taking me so long to post! I hit a bad writing slump, on so many fronts. So, please forgive me for the delay.
> 
> But thank you to all who have kept up with this story! It makes my day knowing that I get to write for y'all! ^_^

After forcing yourself to get up, you got dressed, grabbed your jacket and bag, and followed Carla down to her car. Unfortunately, Steve must stay behind, and it gives way to shared unsettled feelings in your stomachs. Carla drives like a natural-born New Yorker which only serves to shock you further awake.

 

The sun isn’t even up yet, which for it being the east coast is very telling of the time of day. So at this moment you don’t understand why there’s so much traffic at four o’clock in the morning. You yawn and try to burrow away in your coat from the morning chill.

 

Carla pulls into a parking garage and leads the way to the main entrance. Upon entering, you can’t help your noticeable inspection of the grand building’s foyer. The eagle emblem you saw in the rooms above stands in an elegant marble cutout as the main decoration.

 

“Admiring the view?” a voice calls out.

 

You close your mouth and let your eyes seek out the owner of the voice.

 

A tall, black man walks up to you. He’s dressed in all black – trench coat, boots, eyepatch, and all. He’s bald and has a gruff disposition. A black goatee seems to make the whole look complete. He eyes you critically with his one, dark eye.

 

You feel how he wears his intimidation, his seriousness. He’s someone with power. But if it weren’t for the fact that it’s four in the morning and you’re still not completely awake, you’d have slightly more fear of him. “I didn’t realize the entrance was so lovely,” you tell him, sticking your hands in your coat pockets. “Very grand.”

 

He scoffs. “Follow me.”

 

You keep up with the black coat, ignoring the stares from the agents you walk past. You’re taken into a comfy office.

 

The gray carpet stands out against the mahogany brown of the large desk. On the back wood-paneling hang pictures of different people. One of which is the man you’re currently in the company of. A black rectangle, a legal pad, a can of pens, and a desk phone all sit on the desk. The faint smell of coffee teases your nose, dragging some life into you.

 

The director closes the door behind you and offers you one of the beige chairs in front of the big, wooden desk.

 

You sit down and keep watching the man.

 

He goes around the desk and takes the head seat. He eyes you quietly for a moment before clicking a button on the desk phone. “Would you like some coffee?” he asks you.

 

Your eyebrows rise but you find yourself nodding.

 

“Cream and sugar?”

 

You nod again.

 

“Two coffees, please, Lisa,” he states and releases the button.

 

There’s a click and, “ _Yes, sir. Coming right up_.”

 

You stare at the phone strangely. There’s still so much technology you need to learn about here.

 

The man lounges back in the chair, fingers at his chin and cheek, watching you still. “I take it by now you know who I am,” he tells you.

 

“Director Fury,” you reply. “I suppose you know who I am as well.”

 

“Yes, I do, Lady Light.”

 

You cock your head in confusion.

 

“Oh, you’ve not heard?”

 

You shake your head.

 

“The good people of New York have dubbed you so. You’ve become Lady Light to them. A small tribute to their precious Lady Liberty whom watches over their city.”

 

You just stare at him, surprise on your face.

 

“Your display in the park after being seen at the Stark party really helped them solidify the name.” He watches you process the information. “New York hasn’t spoken of heroes like this since your boyfriend fell asleep. Now it has three wonder-people running around in it.”

 

“It’s not my fault,” you tell him, “that I happened to get here when those two are running around. I just dropped in.”

 

Fury leans forward. “Yes, you did,” he says, eying you. He knows of how you appeared. “And that brings me to the set of questions I’ve wanted to ask since the moment I saw you.”

 

There’s a knock on the door that startles you. A thin woman walks in carrying a tray with two, hot mugs on it. She sets it down and leaves.

 

“Thank you, Lisa!” Fury calls out.

 

The renewed smell of coffee assaults your nose and gets you to pick up the mug that’s obviously yours. You’re not sure how the lady figured out that you said yes to his second question but you’re glad she did.

 

Fury’s is dark.

 

As much as you want to down the hot drink, you wait for it to cool, blowing on it. “What were your questions?” you ask.

 

“Your friends, down in New Mexico,” he starts, “where’d they go?”

 

Your brows furrow immediately. “They’re gone?”

 

“As of some hours ago.”

 

Panic sends your mind racing. You quickly search for Tom’s link and trace it. She’s alive, if absolutely exhausted. You don’t know what’s going on, and you know there’s not a message for you waiting in your journal. Steeling some of your energy, you press it into her link and send it on to her. Should give her some energy, should help with any healing. The exchange along with the knowledge of Tom’s absence leaves a windedness and a painful tightness in your chest.

 

“Did you hear where they went?” you ask Fury, in hopes of dispelling the low-level anxiety growing in your body.

 

“They mentioned a place that we only know of as mythological.”

 

“Asgard.”

 

Fury raises an eyebrow.

 

“Did they say why they left?”

 

Fury grabs his mug and rests back against the chair again. He takes a sip. “Apparently there’s a battle going on. They needed to get back to assist.”

 

 _So I was right to send Tom energy_. That thought helps settle your stomach some. And the fact that she hasn’t called for help is also good news. But this is also troublesome to know. _What happened to bring about a battle on Asgard?_ You have a feeling you won’t find out for a while, which doesn’t do wonders for your mind or stomach.

 

After taking a settling breath, you sip on your coffee. The taste and warmth soothing some of the internal turmoil. You turn your eyes back on the inquisitive man in front of you.

 

“Asgard,” Fury repeats for you. “You are claiming it to be a real place?”

 

“It is a real place,” you tell him. “It’s more than that, it’s a whole… realm. One that connects to so many others. Earth being one of them.”

 

Fury simply stares you down as you continue to sip on your coffee. “You mean to tell me that one of those guys out there really _was_ **_Thor_** , the god of thunder, who wields a mighty war hammer?”

 

You nod. “And lightning,” you decide to randomly add.

 

“And Odin, Heimdall, Loki…” Picture book illustrations flood Fury’s mind.

 

“Are all very real people, Asgardians,” you tell him. “I take it whoever reported to you told you about how the Bifrost opened and sucked up my friends into the sky. Yes, both the Bifrost and the rainbow bridge really do exist.”

 

Fury pinches the bridge of his nose as he tries to wrap his mind around this information. But he quickly returns to eying you critically. “Why are you giving this information so freely?” he questions.

 

“It’s too early to put on a filter,” you answer with a wry smile. You sip some more coffee and sit up better. “Plus, this isn’t a new concept to you – new worlds, other people, realms – is it? The fact that you’re taking this half as well as the general average person shows that this has already passed your mind at one point. And I take it S.H.I.E.L.D. itself has some foundations in that belief, that there are things beyond your reach that occasionally show up.

 

“If you didn’t, you would have no reason to dedicate a room to the man who runs around in an iron suit or the man who is jacked up on a super-body serum. And you wouldn’t have invited me to talk with you, rather than sending a fleet to either capture or kill me.”

 

Fury smirks before taking a long swig of his drink. “How many times have you had this conversation?”

 

“Too many to count. Most don’t start out this well.”

 

He nods, his mind working quickly. “Why were the _Asgardians_ here in the first place?” he asks. Acknowledging them for what they are tastes strangely in Fury’s mouth, but he continues. “Or rather, why were two there at first, you here, and then four more there?”

 

“Four more?”

 

“Four beamed down, if you will, last night and took the other two away before my agent could discover their purpose here. Not to mention, who is the freak with the dogs?”

 

“Don’t know,” you answer distractedly. You’re trying to put the pieces together. “Three men and a woman came down?” you guess.

 

Fury nods.

 

“Huh! They’re Thor’s friends. They probably came just to take him back.” You drink some more coffee. “I know little to nothing on the dude with the hellhounds. Not even _they_ knew much about him. From what I gathered, he was sent to kill Thor, and then added my friend and I into the mix. I can’t tell you much else.”

 

Displeasure defines Fury’s gruff features. “Another dog was killed but the last survived. Unfortunately, the man left the scene, taking its pet with him. We are still in pursuit, but I have a feeling we won’t catch him.”

 

Your brows bounce in acknowledgement. “If he finds his way off Earth, you won’t find him,” you state bluntly.

 

Fury leans in again. “Could _you_ find him?” he asks pointedly.

 

“If I tried, quite possibly. Tracing someone between planets isn’t the easiest of things to do, though.”

 

“Even for someone who has the skills for it?”

 

You peer at him over your mug, cautiously. “What are you getting at?” you ask.

 

“You and your friend aren’t from Asgard, if I’m reading everything correctly. You two have… abilities, unearthly powers. We’ve seen them.” Fury rests back again. “Your Shadow Warrior became a huge topic of interest among the agents.”

 

A laugh escapes you. “Sounds about right.”

 

“Same goes for you here.”

 

You simply grin at him. “Have I caused you enough trouble yet, or should I leave and go cause some more?” you question sarcastically.

 

“You’ve certainly done enough,” Fury states clearly. “Although, it’s not as much as we had anticipated.”

 

“Of course, it isn’t. Believe it or not, I’m not here to cause trouble. It just tends to come with my being somewhere. I managed to keep all damage to a minimum when the creature arrived. I’m not trying to be an enemy or a nuisance. I’m just trying…” you sigh heavily, “to have a life.” You rub your eyes.

 

“Where are you from?”

 

“Very, very far away from here,” you answer simply, meeting the critical stare again. “I’m not going to give you any more specifics on it. It won’t do you any good.”

 

“What if more come?” Fury presses.

 

But you’re shaking your head. “Earth doesn’t attract people from where I come from. Even my friend won’t return here. Now that they’re all gone, it’s just going to be me that stays.” As the words leave your mouth, you feel the old knots of sadness and loneliness forming in your stomach.

 

“It’s only going to be you?” Fury asks with a raise eyebrow. “You’re sure of that?”

 

“Yup,” you answer, popping the “p” the way Tom does sometimes. You miss her right now.

 

The man rests on an elbow, stroking his goatee. His eye seems to look past you, his mind busy in thought.

 

You sit quietly and sip on your coffee. Quickly checking in on Steve, all you feel is nerves coming from him. Using some more of your energy, you pass on some tranquility, letting him know that you’re fine. It takes effect, and you feel him begin to rest.

 

Suddenly Fury throws back his mug, drinking the rest of his coffee in two solid gulps. He sets it down with a firm _thunk_. He leans further across the desk than he normally has, almost as if he’s trying to get in your face. “Are you an enemy of Earth?” he questions suddenly.

 

The sudden force startles you. “No,” you quickly answer. “Haven’t I made that clear yet?”

 

He ignores your questions and continues with his. “Do you sincerely care for Cap?”

 

Your brows scrunch. “Yes, of course.”

 

“You really want to continue to live here, live with him, and live in peace?”

 

“Yes, I do.”

 

“Then how would you like a job on the side?”

 

“Excuse me?” It feels like your brain suddenly put the brakes on. “What do you mean?”

 

“You’re a huntress, are you not?” Fury inquires as he slides the black, rectangle over and suddenly lifts its top. You vaguely register that he’s using a laptop as he begins to tap on the keys.

 

“What makes you say that?” you decide to ask in response.

 

“I’ve been very well informed of you and the skill set you’ve either displayed or have spoken of. In Central Park, you used an archer’s bow with a finesse that I’ve only known one other person to accomplish. You’ve explained the intricacies of tracking to one of my agents. You broke into this building and left hardly a trace. No one would’ve known what you did were it not for the incident revealing your actions. You’re fast, agile, small, and apparently good at fighting in a dress.”

 

You raise an eyebrow.

 

“Carla’s note, not mine,” he explains, typing some more.

 

A chuckle bubbles up. “I like dresses. Plus, some places don’t allow women to be in pants. If I’m trying to blend in, dresses it is,” you tell him, more to humor him than anything else.

 

“But you seem to be dancing around something,” you continue. “Yes, your description does define me as a huntress. You’re not wrong in that. But you seem to want to call me something else. Something that fits the same description but is referred to differently.”

 

He meets your questioning gaze. “You want me to be blunt?” he asks, interlacing his fingers together.

 

“Yes, please,” you say and finish your coffee. You set the empty mug back on the tray.

 

“You are a thief.”

 

“Yes, sir, I am.” You lounge in your seat, arms crossed over your chest.

 

“You are an assassin.”

 

 _There it is_. “I have been,” you correct. “I would do jobs for people for a price.”

 

“And you are a huntress.”

 

“Yes. Though, I don’t use an archer’s bow anymore. The one you’ve been reported about was a one-time thing. I lost mine a while back.” You’re fine with your amended story. He doesn’t need the real details. Not that these are too terribly off.

 

“I say all these things to help make my point clear: I want you to work for S.H.I.E.L.D.,” Fury states.

 

Your nose scrunches. “I don’t work for governments. And I certainly don’t want to be an agent of yours. I just want to live my life here, simply and without responsibilities that don’t belong to me.”

 

“I can respect that. I’m not asking you to be an agent of mine. But you have a curious skill set that none of my agents can duplicate. Your ability to track is what I’m particularly interested in.”

 

“Why? What would you use it for?”

 

“If you accepted my offer, all I’d ever ask of you is to go and seek out obscure items that might lie under tight security and bring them to me. I’m not asking you to be an assassin. I have others for that.”

 

You watch him curiously. “Items and artifacts such as that glowy cube thing you have upstairs?” you pry. “It’s not from Earth originally, is it?”

 

“Leave the details of the artifacts to me,” Fury states flatly.

 

“Fine. But here’s some free advice, I’d be very careful handling powerful things that don’t belong to you. I’ve seen that go wrong almost always.”

 

“Our job here at S.H.I.E.L.D. is to provide protection for the people of Earth. As its director, I will decide how to best go about accomplishing that.”

 

You hold up your hands in surrender and drop the subject. “So, if you want me to work for you, I take it you’ll pay me something. Seeing that you’re asking me to do something other than watch out for the people of New York, I want to know what you’re going to bribe me with to do it.”

 

“How about a peaceful life with the captain?” Fury answers, dark eye serious.

 

You scoff and take to rubbing your eyes. “I should’ve guessed that,” you mumble to yourself. “How would you ensure that?”

 

“I would only seek you out for that specific job, no need to interact with S.H.I.E.L.D. or get involved with my agents. Outside of that, you can do as you like. I can provide you the documentation to allow you to live as a regular citizen. You wouldn’t have to hide or be afraid of getting caught.

 

“Want to drive a car, fly in an airplane, buy cheap spirits? You’ll have the driver’s license to do it. You could even take a real job in the city if you felt like it. Be Lady Light to the people if you so desire. I just need you to be the thieving huntress when I call upon you.” Fury’s eye leaves you to look back down at the laptop screen. He clacks away on it.

 

 _I’m literally being offered a life, an existence in this world_ , you marvel. _Essentially, a job for my freedom and peace. It’s the biggest chance I’ve been given since things turned upside down_. Your mind is trying to race through everything. _And I would get to be with Steve, left alone with him_.

 

Your eyes shift up to Fury. “What happens if I refuse?” you ask.

 

“You’ll live under S.H.I.E.L.D.’s constant vigilance and be treated as a hostile outsider,” he answers.

 

“Figured. But you didn’t plan for me to refuse, did you?”

 

“Was I wrong?”

 

Chuckling, you shake your head. “You’re practically blackmailing me,” you joke.

 

“I needed a good enough incentive to convince you,” Fury comments. “Now, as of this moment, you work for me. Not S.H.I.E.L.D. I won’t put its name on anything you do.”

 

You’re okay with that.

 

Fury hits “enter” one last time and shuts the laptop. He stands and heads for the door. “Follow me,” he orders.

 

You quickly scramble to your feet and keep close. You follow him into the elevator and two floors up. You come out on a floor abundantly filled with computers and all sorts of other technological items. You end up getting put through a process. A picture is taken, a thumbprint is done, and an identity is created. You’re given the day of your arrival as your birthday for documentation’s sake, along with given the Caribbean Islands as your birthplace. Your exotic features fit best there.

 

At the end of it all, you’re given a little card with your face on it. After some review, you learn that it’s your driver’s license. You’re not used to seeing so much personal information on such a trivial little thing. A birth certificate is forged along with a passport. You’re fascinated by how Earth requires so much identification to do some of the simplest things, like traveling or buying certain things or even marrying, apparently. Your world isn’t nearly so picky. Granted, they have other things to make up for their lack of identity specificities. Lastly, you’re given American citizenship papers.

 

“How the hell are you allowed to do any of this?” you question as your eyes rove over so much information.

 

“We’re not,” Fury admits. “But we don’t function like the normal government does. Rogers had to go through the same process to make him a current human being rather than a ninety-year-old one that looks twenty-something.”

 

 _Fair enough_.

 

“Speaking of Cap, I have some things for him. This way.”

 

You trail Fury, folder with your new identity in hand. You end up in some kind of storage-like rooms.

 

Fury digs around before finding the right box and pulling it out. “I take it you know about former Agent Carter?” he asks you.

 

You nod. “Steve’s told me about her,” you say. “And the last time I was here, I discovered that she’s still alive.”

 

“She is, but her health has been declining as of late. I would suggest that Steve visit her soon. I don’t know how much longer she has. Anyway, this box contains some things she preserved.” He pulls off the lid.

 

You glance inside and a small gasp escapes. Your fingers trail over the first item you see. It’s contained in a plastic bag, airtight, but you pick up what you can see is Steve’s uniform. The very one that he’s wearing in the picture you stole. All the decorations are still on the breast, and while it looks time-worn, it’s still in incredible shape. _I can fix that up easily_. You hug it to your chest.

 

“Sergeant Barnes’ hat,” Fury notes, handing you the wrapped up, uniform cap, “letters, recordings, and other things. You can take them back to him.”

 

You set the items back inside and look up at the director. “Why are you giving these to me, though?” you ask. “Why not give them to him yourself, or earlier even?”

 

Fury closes the box and rests an arm on it. “I’ve been told of how you love the captain by multiple sources at this point.”

 

You don’t expect the overwhelming pang that comes with his statement – one that you have yet to make yourself.

 

“No one expected him to find someone again, especially not so soon. You seem to have found him, or are at least in the process of it. You should be the one to take these to him. You’ll know how to do it.”

 

Your emotions are still racing but you set them aside to finish what’s needed here. You take a deep breath before slipping your folder inside the box. You pick it up and follow Fury into another room. You suddenly find yourself being set up with one of those smartphone things along with a laptop that looks more advanced than most of the technology you’ve seen in the stores.

 

“For communication and research,” Fury explains and places them in a backpack for you then hands you a small wallet. It contains some cash, a debit card and credit card, and a place for your driver’s license he points out. On the way out of the room, he stops by a pile of three random books. He hands them to you.

 

“What are these for?” you ask.

 

“Pleasure reading,” he explains nonchalantly. “They’re the first three books to a really popular series of this time. It’s fiction. Magic, England, orphan boy, big prophecy, what’s not to love? I know Rogers likes reading. It would be good for him to explore modern literature as well.”

 

You stuff the books in the box and are thankful when you’re finally led back to the foyer.

 

“I’ll leave you here,” Fury states, hands behind his back. “Your phone has access to me. I’ll message you when I need you. Till then, have a good life.” He turns on his heel and leaves.

 

You barely take a breath when Carla walks up to you.

 

She’s in a blue nurse’s outfit and carries a think manila envelope in her arms. “All set up?” she inquires.

 

“Yeah!” is all you really know how to respond with.

 

She holds out the package to you. “These are for you and Captain Rogers.”

 

You shuffle the box onto your hip and take the weighty package from her. “What is it?”

 

“A gift.”

 

“Oh! Umm, thanks.” You smile at her. “You’ll still come to visit, right?”

 

“Of course!” Her hair sways as she plants her hands on her hips. “Who are you to kick me out?”

 

You both laugh. “Text me when you feel like coming over then,” you tell her. “Maybe we can have a proper breakfast this time.”

 

“Will do. Need a ride back?” she offers.

 

You shake your head. “No, I’m gonna walk. Thanks, though.”

 

“No prob.” She winks and walks away.

 

~*~

 

Once you’re outside, you have to dig around to find your flip phone. You dial Steve and start walking.

 

The sun is well awake now, and so is the city.

 

“ _Hello?_ ” Steve answers.

 

“Hey, I’m out. I’m walking home.”

 

“ _Do you need me to pick you up?_ ”

 

“Umm, yeah, that’d be great, actually. I’m carrying a lot of things right now.”

 

“ _Okay. Feel like getting some breakfast while out?_ ”

 

“Sure!”

 

“ _Great. I’ll be there soon_.”

 

“Bye.”


	23. Facing the Past

 

Breakfast is greatly needed by the time it’s served.

 

You take to eating with little to no acknowledgment of the world around you. Your mind travels down long, winding roads.

 

Steve watches you quietly for a long time before he decides to interrupt your thoughts. “Is everything alright?” he asks gently, concern lacing his voice.

 

You look up at him and blink away the confusion of suddenly being called back to reality. You let out a sigh, processing his question. “There’s a lot on my mind,” you answer him.

 

“Will you tell me about it?”

 

You munch on a few more bites of food before you nod. Meeting his sky-blue eyes, you ask Steve, “Have you ever heard of Asgard? Of Thor or Loki?”

 

Steve nods. “That’s Norse mythology,” he states. “My mom would tell me some of their stories. With our Irish heritage, she’d heard some of them. But how would you know about them?”

 

“Heh. Yeah,” you reply with an awkward laugh. Your eyes stare off in the distance again as you try to figure out this conversation. With a deep breath, you bring your attention back to Steve. “I know them.”

 

In Steve’s mind, those two concepts aren’t supposed to go together. “Please explain.”

 

You nod and begin to tell your tale of this very real place among the realms. Slowly you explain the road that’s brought you here, explaining things about Tom in context to Asgard. You tell about Loki’s visits and Thor’s banishment. You catch up to present day letting him know of what brought Fury to want to meet with you. When you finish, you let Steve process through it all.

 

After knowing you and your past, this thankfully isn’t too terribly hard to swallow. But it still goes down with some force. He puts together the pieces that were missing before from your story. His fork pushes around his leftover food absently around the plate until he knows what to ask next.

 

“Do you need to leave then?” Steve asks.

 

You quickly shake your head. “No,” you tell him firmly. “I’ve not been called. Unless that changes, I’ll stay here. Thomasin knows she can call me at any time. She also knows that I’ll return once my help is no longer needed.”

 

That reassurance helps ease Steve’s mind. He’s not losing you. He can trust that. As he meets your eyes, he sees that there’s still so much to cover aside from just these myths-become-truths. And he knows this isn’t the place to discuss it all.

 

“Feel like finishing this conversation at home?” Steve asks you.

 

~*~

 

You must be carrying a heavy weariness from everything adding up because the only thing you want to do is sleep. After setting all your things down on the kitchen table, removing your coat, you decide to lay down on the couch.

 

Steve joins you and places your head in his lap.

 

You fall asleep to his gentle strokes through your hair.

 

Careful to not disturb you, Steve works on some art. Every so often his eyes wander to the mysterious box you returned with, along with the backpack and yellow package. He knows once you wake you’ll continue to explain things, so he patiently waits.

 

~*~

 

When you wake from your nap, you feel significantly better.

 

Steve smiles down at you. His eyes are warm. “Morning,” he greets.

 

Your eyes widen. “Wait, really?” you immediately question.

 

He chuckles with a shake of his head. “No, you only slept a few hours.”

 

Rubbing your eyes, you sit up. The television is playing in the background quietly. Different art materials are scattered around the couch and coffee table. You glance over at the dining table and find your items undisturbed.

 

It’s only midday but it feels like it should be so much later.

 

You push off the couch and go over to the dining table. Grabbing Carla’s package, you begin tearing it open.

 

Steve walks up behind you.

 

“Carla gave us this,” you tell him.

 

“What is it?” he questions curiously.

 

You’re surprised when you pull out a silver picture frame. Some thin, crinkly paper covers the face of it. But once you remove it, you find a picture of yourself with Steve. It’s a shocking encounter. Pictures of you just don't really exist. Drawings, maybe, but not photographs.

 

Steve pulls out the second frame from the package. His eyes browse over both photos. “They’re the ones she took at the party,” he says aloud.

 

You’re nodding, eyes taking in the gifts. You’re reminded of the beautiful, blue dress you wore and the amazing makeup job Carla gave you along with how prettily she did your hair. And of course, Steve looked handsome in his dress shirt and tie, blond hair swooped over perfectly.

 

The picture you hold is of when neither of you looked at the camera. Both yours and Steve’s faces are tucked into one another. It’s a sweet moment that catches part of the essence of your relationship. The other photo is when Carla got your attention so you both looked up and smiled properly.

 

“This was really nice of her,” you say to Steve.

 

He nods. “Where do you want to put them?”

 

You glance around the area. Together you and Steve discuss the best places. In the end, the frames get placed on a bookshelf on two different levels to complement one another.

 

It’s a nice detour before you must return to the rest of the items. You finally decide to start with the job.

 

“So, I’ve been hired by Fury to be his personal tracker,” you start off with. Pulling out the laptop and phone, you dive into the discussion you had with Fury.

 

Steve listens carefully. When you’re done, he concludes with, “He’s paying you to be a thief?”

 

“Essentially,” you reply.

 

Disapproval takes over his features as his eyebrows pucker. He doesn’t say anything though, and _that’s_ what surprises you.

 

“What about it bothers you?” you prompt.

 

“I don’t like how he’s keeping full freedom from you,” he answers honestly.

 

You shrug. “It’s not the worst thing people have done to keep me in their employment.”

 

Steve’s sky-blue eyes shoot me a look.

 

“Look, I know why I accepted. I get left alone. He could’ve asked for a lot more. And thankfully he didn’t. I get to stay with you and not be watched like a wild animal that needs caging.”

 

Steve pulls you into his arms, and you feel him take your tension and worry away. “I understand your reasoning, and I’ll support it so long as that’s what you want to do. I just want you to be safe. Who knows where those missions will send you?”

 

You hug him tightly. “I will be okay, love. I doubt too many surprises will be sprung on me. Earth is tamer than other places I’ve been to. Plus, my only job is to retrieve things. Nothing more, nothing less. I’ll be fine. I promise.”

 

Steve places a kiss on the top of your head.

 

You look up at him and kiss his lips.

 

Still holding you, Steve glances over at the still unopened box. “What’s in there?” he asks.

 

You rest against his chest as you gather the strength to tell him.

 

“I can handle it.”

 

You grasp his back and take from his strength. With a deep breath, you turn to the box and take off the lid.

 

The first things that greet you are the books that Fury gave you along with your folder of information.

 

“What are these?” Steve asks picking up one of the books and glances over the title. “What are they about?” His eyes take in the other two then picks them up.

 

"Something along the lines of magic and orphans, and from the looks of it secrets and prisoners," you answer, also glancing at the titles.

 

"Hmm. She's a British author."

 

"Oh! That's interesting!"

 

"Why do you have them?"

 

“Fury must really like this series for them to have been lying around the building. He said it’s the first three of several more. Since you like to read, he thought it would be good to introduce you to modern literature. I take it these are popular,” you say.

 

Steve nods, setting the books down on the table. “We’ll have to read them then.”

 

That notion brings a small smile to your lips before it fades again. You remove your file from the box and gently pull Steve’s uniform out along with Bucky’s cap.

 

The air inside Steve’s lungs leave the moment his eyes recognize the two items. He can only stare in shock. His mind doesn’t believe it. “It can’t be,” his lips whisper.

 

“Fury said that Peggy preserved all of these things,” you say quietly.

 

Suddenly there’s a painful tightness in Steve’s chest. His shoulders start trembling. Breathing feels laborious, and his vision blurs. Steve hurries away from the dining table, escaping to the bedroom. He collapses at the foot of the bed. With shaking hands, he takes hold of the covers.

 

You rush in after him, worried. “Steve?”

 

You kneel beside him, and the moment you touch his back, you’re flooded with the trauma that currently torments him. You feel how he watches his best friend fall to his death, you experience hearing his love’s voice for the last time, and you feel the war that still presses around him.

 

You pull yourself back to the present circumstance and move to take Steve’s hands into one of your own. With the other, you draw his face to look at you. “Steve,” you say softly, “love, look at me. Listen to my voice.”

 

His blue eyes struggle to focus. His body trembles erratically.

 

“Come here, love.” You stroke his cheek and run your thumb over his hand. “Come back. You’re not there. Be here. Don’t leave me.” You open your heart to him, taking his pain upon yourself in exchange for peace and love. You carry his weight in order for it to lighten up on him.

 

Suddenly gasping for air, Steve grips your wrists as his eyes slowly find you again. He calls your name, barely huffing the syllables out. His head moves as his eyes search your form. His hands feel your arms and hands.

 

“I’m right here,” you assure him. “It’s me. It’s just me.”

 

He pulls you into a smothering embrace. He holds you so tightly to his chest, his cheek pressed against the top of your head. “No…” he says softly, his voice quivering, “you’re so much more to me….” He squeezes you tightly. “Why did Fury give you those things?”

 

“He says that Peggy’s health is declining. He thought you should know, even suggested visiting her. He was seeking out your best interest, which meant that I was the one to bring you the news…. I’m sorry.”

 

Steve’s grip eases. “I didn’t tell you about her,” he admits.

 

“I know. But I found out when I retrieved your shield. Her file was there.”

 

“Are you upset?”

 

“No. Just concerned for you. I worried about how you would take this.”

 

His hands rub your back and arms. “Do you think I should go see her?” he asks tremulously.

 

“Yes.” The answer is out before you really think about it. You realize you mean it, but the suddenness of it shocks you. You didn’t think you were that prepared to encourage him on this endeavor. “Yes, I do.”

 

He gives no response, simply continues to hold you. It’s a while before he takes a shaky breath. Finally, he asks, “Can we go through that box at a later time?”

 

“Yes, love, of course,” you tell him.

 

He buries his face in your neck. “Thank you.”

 

~*~

 

For the rest of that day and the next two, Steve keeps himself busy, avoiding so much as even looking at the box.

 

You take to read him the books Fury gave you. You both enjoy learning about this crazy wizard world with this strange British vernacular that is particularly different for you. It’s an enjoyable escape from the coursing thoughts that keep Steve so pensive at times, and you so watchful.

 

It’s one night when you decide to stay up late that the nightmarish flashes wake Steve from his restless sleep. It sends him into the living room to seek you out. He does not expect to find you working on his uniform.

 

You were using your light to fix the wear and tear that the old material had taken. You had reverted the uniform back to its former, crisp, dark-brown glory. As he stares at you, you share with him of how much you love his uniform. It’s one of the main reasons you love that picture you found of him. To hear of his stories and see him from that time is remarkable to you. But especially so because you know it’s still him, him from that time and him now.

 

Steve joins you on the couch and watches as you finish the last detailing.

 

You continue onto Bucky’s officer’s cap. And for the sake of seeing him smile, when you’re finished with it, you place it on your head and let it drop over your eyes.

 

Steve actually laughs. He lifts the hat up and places a kiss on your nose then your lips. He helps you hang up his uniform in the closet and sets Bucky’s hat next to his worn baseball cap atop the dresser.

 

When you both head to bed after that, Steve sleeps soundly, holding you close to his chest.

 

~*~

 

The next morning you discover Steve going through the box.

 

The sight brings a smile to your face as you feel his tranquility about the matter. You give him the space he needs to explore it all. But you’re rather surprised when he makes it through so quickly.

 

Steve’s attentions seem to return quite suddenly to you, even though he doesn’t mention anything about Peggy. He randomly takes you shopping again for clothes and takes you out to eat at a place you like. He spends a day in bed with you. He reads to you and makes you sweets.

 

You know exactly what he’s doing. And you let him. You drink in his affections and the time he devotes to you. You’re going to need it for when he’s gone.

 

Only then does Steve finally announce that he’s going to go visit Peggy. He wants to be there several days.

 

You watch his serious face and sincere blue eyes as you lie next to him in bed. Your fingers trace his nose and lips and cheek.

 

He holds your body close to his. He has you wrapped in his warmth.

 

“Then I guess we better get you ready,” you say to him, a small smile on your lips.

 

Clouds slowly roll in that day as you help Steve pack for his trip. You both meet up with Carla to get directions. The drive itself is about five hours long. She gives Steve the address and wishes him the best.

 

Back at the apartment, you’re quiet as you watch Steve run through everything again. His nerves are getting the best of him. Finally, you stand and catch him, holding his face in your hands.

 

“Steve,” you say, “it’s okay.”

 

He visibly relaxes, releasing a breath through his nose. His arms encircle you, and his lips find yours.

 

You kiss him with more desperation than you mean to.

 

And he notices. When Steve pulls back, he rests his forehead on yours. “I’m coming back,” he assures you.

 

You don’t meet his eyes.

 

“You once said that you wouldn’t leave unless I asked you to go.”

 

Meeting his sky-blue eyes, you nod.

 

“Well I’m not telling you to leave.”

 

Humor fills your eyes as you smile. “Then I will be here.”

 

“And I will come back,” Steve promises.

 

You hug him tightly. “Please do,” you whisper to him.

 

Steve kisses you deeply, pouring himself into you. In exchange, you send him the strength he needs. As he grabs his truck keys and bags, he leaves you with one last smile of his.

 

After the door shuts behind him, you walk over to the window. You open it and sit on the sill, the cool breeze from the incoming storm plays with your hair. Staring out into the gray evening, you feel as your heart drives away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all! We only have three more chapters left!!!
> 
> Aaaahhhh!!! Almost there! Keep hanging tight with me!


	24. In the Silence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeey!! Sorry this took so long to post. I started school this past week and homework hit hard! Granted because of that, I was able to crank out the second half of this chapter in one nice, long sitting.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

The rain starts an hour into your quiet stupor. It only serves to get you up to grab a book before resuming your position at the sill. The water teases your barefoot, soaking our jeans leg. You don’t care. Water is your friend, a rejuvenating force, which is what you need right now.

 

Off in the distance, thunder rolls.

 

Your eyes search the dark skies, but in seeing no sign of lightning nearby, you continue sitting and reading. Time creeps on slowly. When you finish the second book of the wizard series, you step inside and slowly pick through the cabinets. You munch on things absentmindedly. You focus on the sound of the rain pattering all around rather than let your mind grow louder.

 

Your hands don’t know what to do. Wandering aimlessly back and forth from the bedroom to the kitchen to the living room to the bathroom only serves to make your nerves grow. Finally, standing within the bathroom, you notice a few bottles and towels out of place. You walk over and straighten them out. But after giving them another look, you decide to just rearrange everything. Then you spend an hour or so simply organizing and cleaning the bathroom.

 

When you finish there, you move into the bedroom and start cleaning. You put away stray clothes. You start forming a pile of laundry. You strip the bed of its sheets to wash and go ahead and put some clean ones on. You put away shoes and any other random item lying about that’re out of place.

 

And this is how you progress through the rest of the apartment. You not only wash all the dishes, you also clean the counters and clean every appliance, and then set yourself to cleaning the floors as well, dining room included. You have to close the windows so that wind doesn’t blow the rain inside.

 

The living room gets tidied up easily enough. But when you come to all the art supplies strewn about, you can’t bring yourself to move them. You do your best to contain them to the coffee table and part of a bookshelf. But you leave them in such a way that you can easily see the various drawings.

 

When you discover that you’re all done, you plop down on the couch, surprised that your back and feet ache. Checking the time, you realize it’s become late. You and Steve would normally be heading to bed about now. You grab the third book of the series and turn off all the lights in the main area. You change into your night clothes and crawl into bed, turning on the bedside lamp.

 

Thunder grows louder outside your windows.

 

You open up the book and place your focus there.

 

**Are you worried I’m gonna getcha?**

 

You sneer at the unwanted voice in your mind. “No,” you tell her firmly. “So go away.”

 

Her piercing cackle strikes like the lightning bolt that flashes outside, making you jump. **Oh, you lonely, lonely girl…**.

 

You turn your back on the windows only to find yourself staring at the empty spot where Steve sleeps. You let out a deep sigh and go back to reading. You know full well that you’re not sleeping tonight.

 

But the third book captures your mind. It introduces new creatures such as werewolves, people who can shift into animals, and a strange bird thing. In the end, it becomes your favorite of the three. It’s dawn by the time you finish it, and the storm has long passed over, although the cloudiness stayed.

 

You close the book and turn off the lamp, stretching out in bed. For some comfort, you clutch Steve’s pillow to your chest. Even though you changed the linens, you can still catch Steve’s presence and slight scent in the pillow itself. Much to your surprise, you manage to doze off for a few hours.

 

~*~

 

Sirens blaring down below startle you awake. You frantically look around but find nothing disturbed. With some deep breaths, you calm your racing heart. Getting out of bed, you wash your face in the bathroom sink.

 

In the kitchen, you find yourself some food. You sit at the table with your journal and read Tom’s new message. She’s been all over the place lately after explaining the situation Asgard is in. You just follow along on whatever subject she chooses. And in this case the last thing she asked about is how you’re faring. For the sake of not having to explain, you tell her you’re fine, the exact same way she has been even though you both know better.

 

When you finish your breakfast, you stare out the window. The gray, cloudy day invites you out. You quickly change into jeans and a blouse and your converse shoes then braid your hair back. You grab your jacket, pack, and remember to make sure that your wallet and extra phone are on you. You take the keys for Steve’s motorcycle, lock up the apartment, and head down.

 

You ride through the city, weaving through traffic. You cross the bridge into Brooklyn and have a look around at Steve’s place of origin. You don’t ever stop, just keep traveling to the next place. Only when you need to fuel up do you stop. When you head back to Manhattan, you scout out a bookstore and buy the rest of the series. Your next stop is Central Park. There you seek out your tree and climb up. Settling down, you take to reading again.

 

Hours pass and the only thing that brings you out of the world you’re mentally engrossed in is a small voice down below.

 

You glance over the edge of the trunk you’re tucked away in and find a group of kids staring. “Uhh, hey,” you greet awkwardly.

 

“Are you the Lady Light?” one girl asks.

 

A smile grows on your lips at the name. “Yes.”

 

A second girl punches one of the boys on the shoulder. “See, I told you,” she tells him.

 

He rubs his arm. “Yeah, alright, alright. But I still doubt she’ll play with us,” he responds.

 

The second boy looks up at you and asks, “Would you come play soccer with us?”

 

You have no idea what soccer is. But their hopeful faces are what get you to agree.

 

They all shout in excitement and wait for you to join them on the ground. They eagerly explain to you how soccer works and try to figure out teams. In the end, you challenge them all. You run up and down chasing the ball with them, letting them hold their own against you. Their laughter does your heart good and eases your mind. When their parents come looking for them, you give them each a little ball of light to take home and play with.

 

After that you grab your things and head home.

 

~*~

 

You come to finish the series by midmorning of the next day after getting practically no sleep again. You did all the laundry throughout, even put it away in its proper place. Rubbing your eyes, you lie your head back on the couch wishing either Steve or Tom were there to tell them about the story.

 

So much adventure and magic and fights! Oh, and the different houses! Those are so neat with the intriguing mascots to represent them. Tom and Loki are totally with the snakes, and Steve is definitely a lion. You figure Thor would be with Steve on that one. Carla is likely that raven one. You wonder if anyone shares a house with you….

 

The pulling of the shadows wakes you from the light doze you’d fallen into with an audible gasp. A familiar figure steps out into your living room.

 

“Tom!” you exclaim and jump to your feet.

 

She gives you an awkward greeting as you hug her. She’s stiff as ever, desperation and anxiety thick on her skin. “Sorry to, uh, drop in,” she apologizes.

 

“It’s so good to see you!” you tell her happily, your own heart easing.

 

Tom keeps laughing awkwardly, but after a moment’s relaxation, she manages to hug you in return. Tension in her back ebbs, and the nerves running through her slowly begin to calm.

 

You release your best friend to get a good look at her. There are no glaring wounds on her, though you’ve already taken most of the edge off her presence to help her still. “You’re always welcome here,” you assure her. “I’m just glad you’re in one piece.”

 

“Eh, got a little scraped up, but nothing I couldn’t handle,” she responds. Her sharp eyes roam the open area. They linger over Steve’s artwork. “So where’s this ‘captain’ of yours? Not fair that Loki got to meet him and I didn’t.”

 

You scoff, crossing your arms. “Said he ‘met’ him, did he?” _He hardly **saw** the man!_

 

Her eyebrow quirks. “I take it his phrasing was… a little under exaggerated?”

 

Your eyes go to the window and glare at the mental image of the Emerald Prince. “Something like that,” you tell her. You return your attention to your friend. “No, Steve’s out for the weekend. It’s actually nice to have you here.”

 

A half-smile takes Tom’s lips as she grows more comfortable in the new place. Her eyes drop to the artwork again. “So he’s an artist, huh?” she starts.

 

“Yes!” You smile brightly. “Come sit, and I’ll show you!”

 

Hanging out on the couch talking about whatever comes to mind makes it feel like you’re both not trying to avoid problems of one sort or another. But sometimes this is your life, playing normal for the sake of the other. Eventually it works. But at this moment, it’s just nice to have a familiar presence around.

 

~*~

 

When it finally dawns on you that your friend is here to visit, you suddenly want to show her all of New York!

 

Gasping, you near about exclaim Tom’s name in excitement. “You have to check out this city! There’s so much to it!” you tell her, eyes alight.

 

She laughs. “Alright, show me.”

 

You both grab your bags and head down to the street. While you make your way to the heart of Manhattan where all the buzz happens, you tell Tom about the wizard books you just read through. You explain this magical world that takes place at schools, and the house system that everyone is classified through, and all the messy family dynamics.

 

“And you said there’s seven of them?” Tom questions.

 

You nod. “Seven books. All written by a lady that’s actually alive right now but lives in a different country.” Both of you are far more used to finding literature written by long dead authors. So this concept is strange.

 

“So…” Tom starts, “humans wrote books about magic, and wizards, and spells… and there’s four _houses_ … and you think Loki and I would be in the same… ‘house’?” Her eyes scan the streets as you trail down the sidewalk.

 

Her summary makes you laugh. “It’s like a test, a placement sort of thing,” you clarify. “You’d really like the series.”

 

Knowing that your friend now lives surrounded by magic and sorcery makes the puzzlement on her face all the more amusing. “Strange to think of such… abnormalities here on Earth.”

 

You bob your head. “True. But their technology here seems to be… its own kind of magic.” Your thoughts turn to Steve and his history. “So different from where we’re from.”

 

Tom concedes that point.

 

As you’re walking, the buzz of the people and technology grows louder. Soon you’re holding out your arms in presentation. “This is Time Square,” you announce to your boggled friend.

 

Her sharp eyes jump from screen to screen and car to car and person to person. For a second, she just takes in the craziness that is New York. She drinks in the drone of everything. Something in her eyes lets you know that she’s very present in your current environment. And while it wakes her, it also makes her wary of everything.

 

You understand the tension she wears of being surrounded by so many people, only now do you realize that you’ve come to be used to it. It’s just the constant state of being for this city. It truly becomes background noise somewhere along the way. “Isn’t this something?” you state in awe.

 

Walking along, you point out little things that have come to fascinate you about the place. You take her in stores and meander around as you both continue to talk about random things. People wave at you as they pass you on the sidewalk. Kids seek out your attention by trying to get a high-five from you. Tom simply watches curiously, her steely eyes guarded, waiting to see the outcome.

 

As the day wanes, you take your best friend out to eat at one of your preferred, little café’s. And as night falls, instead of heading back to the apartment, you take Tom up to the roof of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s building. You know she’s going to appreciate the amazing view of the city at night, seeing all the skyscrapers in their glowing glory against the black sky. It’s there that you slowly start telling your friend about Steve’s story.

 

Stories are strange. They take you out of your world and drop you in places you may not ever get to experience yourself. But they exist nonetheless. With every story told, there is a new land to visit. Even if it’s just for a short time.

 

Thomasin and yourself are used to sharing stories of places you’ve seen, people you’ve met, and extraordinary things you’ve experienced. It never gets old. There’s always something to tell. The last thing either of you have ever known is a normal life.

 

After morning dawns over the Statue of Liberty, you and Tom grab some breakfast. You head to Central Park for a great part of the day. Up in your tree, hidden among the green of this city, Tom begins to fill you in on her time in New Mexico. She’s greatly relaxed since arriving yesterday morning. And even though you both share the dark shadows under your eyes, you’re both visibly far more at peace.

 

Come midday, a new troop of kids find you in your nestled spot.

 

“Lady Light!” they exclaim. “Come play with us!”

 

Tom jumps down with you. She stands under the shelter of the tree, her eyes on the clouds moving in, as you throw light frisbees for the kids to run after and catch. “Why do they call you that?” she asks you.

 

You give a genuine shrug. “I didn’t come up with it,” you explain. “They did. ‘They’ being the general public. That hellhound exposed me to the public twice. From those instances, the name was created. It’s a callback to the Statue of Liberty that stands on Ellis Island. She’s also known as Lady Liberty. Apparently I’m an embodiment of the Lady’s guardianship over the city.”

 

A knowing smile takes your friend’s lips.

 

You send a few more frisbees out, your mind on the day of the creature’s death.

 

“What is it?” Tom asks you, noting your far off gaze.

 

“Did I tell you about Layne?” You go into the story of what happened with the hellhound, and then of what followed.

 

Tom watches you closely. “How was that?”

 

You take a deep breath. “It was a much needed release.”

 

“Is that what you’re hoping your captain will find on this trip?”

 

You meet her steely eyes. “Something like that.”

 

~*~

 

You and your friend end up at the apartment, talking late into the night. It’s only then that you hear that sigh you know so well as your friend gets to her feet. You watch her silently as the anchor drops into the pit of your stomach. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?” you inquire softly.

 

“And you’re staying,” she replies in the same fashion.

 

“Are you upset?” It’s a genuine question. One that you will always ask.

 

“Of course not, dummy.” She does her best to hold her smile. “I mean, it was nice to spend a long amount of time together in the same place for once. But we know where to find one another. And it’s not like we’re _galaxies_ away.”

 

You scoff. “No, not this time. _Just_ a whole different dimensional space,” you prod with a grin. You look your friend over, feeling her out. “Are you… okay? To go back, I mean.” You don’t want anything to go wrong for your dear friend.

 

Tom’s sharp eyes soften slightly. “I’m alright now,” she answers after a pause. “I got a little overwhelmed. Destroyed city, everyone working so hard to fix what’s broken…. It’s all just… really… familiar.”

 

“Do you need me there?” you ask. “I would have come, but-”

 

“No, no,” Tom interrupts with a wave of her hand. “It’s all under control. Plus, sounds like you’ve been busy down here, anyway.”

 

You nod. “I have. But I’ll always have time for you, if you need me.”

 

“Thanks,” she replies with a kind smile. “It’s been great seeing you. Thanks for letting me hang for a while.”

 

You rise and walk over to your beloved friend. “Come back anytime.” You give her a warm hug, transferring some extra energy for her to take home. “And tell your bastard prince I say ‘hey’.” _The Emerald Prince that long ago stole your heart_.

 

Wrapping an arm around you, Tom chuckles lightly. “Sure thing, Lady Light.”

 

Hearing her use your new title sparks a warmth in your aching heart, reminding you of who stole your own heart. You step back and watch the shadows swallow your friend. And once more, you’re left in silence.

 

Thunder rolls in the distance, promising to close in soon. But you don’t start crying until you hear the pattering of rain against the windows.

 

You stand in the middle of your living room with tears streaming down your cheeks without a clue of what to do.

 

Steve is away. Tom is gone. And you’re all alone.

 

Lightning flashes outside, sending foreign shadows across the room.

 

 **Poor, lonely, little thing. All you have is me. Nothing else. _No one_ else. Tisk, tisk**.

 

You clutch your stomach, lowering yourself onto your knees. _Please don’t, Damina… please_.

 

 **Oh? What’s this? Are you _begging_ me to stop bothering you? What stroke of fortune is this? The mighty Lady kneels at my feet**.

 

With another strike of lightning, the power goes out in the apartment. Now you sit in the darkness, silence plaguing your ears, and so much heaviness presses upon your heart.

 

You miss your friend. You’re happy that she has a place to go back to – but it still hurts to let her go. This wouldn’t be so hard on you if doubts about Steve’s return weren’t creeping into your mind. His absence is making you anxious to a point that you can no longer hold yourself well. You want to see him. You want to hear from him. You want him back.

 

 **And if he doesn’t return? What then? Will you run away again? You’re so very good at that. Always running. Always avoiding your problems. You’re a coward**.

 

“That’s not true,” you whisper through the sobs that escape your throat.

 

Lightning and thunder rattle the apartment.

 

You scramble onto your feet and escape into the bedroom, only to collapse on the edge. Your chest has grown painfully tight, and your breath is coming in short bursts.

 

“Steve,” you try to call out.

 

**He’s not coming. Why would he? He’s off with his first love. Why would he return to you? What good are you for him?**

 

Tears make you choke, which only worsens into hacking coughs. You can hardly see the covers before you, and your body trembles uncontrollably.

 

“Steve!”

 

You weep on the bed, trying to come up for air from the panic attack that is ruling your body. You cling to the covers, suffering through the lack of air in your lungs.

 

 _Help me_ , you plead silently.

 

Her derisive laughter haunts your mind and makes your body shudder. **You’ll never escape this. There is no rescue. Your hero isn’t here to save the day. He is not coming**.

 

You grip your head. “No!” you shriek. “That’s not true! Go away! Leave me alone! _Steve!"_

 

Lightning strikes, and thunder drowns out his voice. But it doesn’t stop him from gripping your shoulders, calling your name, seeking out the source of your distress.

 

And as you are rattled out of your screaming mind, lightning illuminates a sight you’ve been longing to see: a pair of sky-blue eyes.

 

"Steve."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, two more chapters to go!! We're almost done!!! Aaahhhhh!!!!


	25. Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! Conclusion to the crazy emotional ride you've been riding! Are you ready for it?

 

“What’s wrong? What’s going on?” Steve asks frantically. His blue eyes search you over in deep concern. “Who are you screaming at? Did someone hurt you?” Rainwater drips down his face from his hair.

 

You bury your face in his chest and cling to his soaked shirt. “Steve,” you whine softly as though you’re afraid he’ll disappear. “Please don’t leave… please don’t leave me….” Tears add moisture to the rain-soaked material you cling to.

 

Steve listens to you weep into him, and it’s as if his own heart is breaking. The feeling of something being torn inside that he first felt on the last leg of his trek back is very present in his chest as he holds you. Steve wraps a strong arm around your trembling form and glances around. His cautious blue eyes search the darkness of the bedroom.

 

No one is in sight. The power is still out, not only here but most of this grid section. The storm pounds outside the windows as thunder growls unkindly. Lightning seems to make the glass rattle. There is no immediate danger to be found.

 

Steve lets out a calming breath, easing his shoulders and back. “It’s alright, my darling,” Steve coos softly. He gathers you in his arms, lifting you off the edge of the bed. After kicking off his shoes, Steve climbs onto the bed and rests back against the headboard. He cradles you gently in his lap.

 

You curl yourself into him, grabbing a fistful of his shirt. Tears quietly stream down your cheeks as you wrap yourself in his presence. Your screaming mind has quieted. His familiar warmth slowly seeps into your quaking body.

 

Steve takes to stroking your hair, a habit of his when he wishes to calm you. “Tell me what happened, Starlight,” he says softly.

 

You shake your head slightly against him.

 

“Why not?”

 

“You wouldn’t believe it,” you answer him hoarsely then clear your throat. Lingering jeers float around in your mind.

 

Steve’s blond brows rise in a challenge. He pulls back slightly to get in your line of sight. When he captures your teary eyes, he says, “You fell from the sky. You come a different galaxy. You have friends that are supposed to only be mythology. You have phenomenal abilities. What makes you think I won’t believe your story at this point?”

 

A part of you wants to laugh… and then somewhat does. The awkward chuckle that jolts out of your throat seems to allow you the mental space to breathe and gather yourself. Deep breaths help settle your mind and wave of emotions. You take a moment to wipe your face and rid your cheeks of the teary sogginess.

 

Steve adjusts himself slightly around your curled-up form so that he can keep seeing your face. Rain still pours outside as thunder keeps it company. He notes how the rattling disturbs you.

 

You force yourself to focus on orienting your mind to the story you’re about to tell, slowly pulling it together. You lick your lips and start off with the most important part, “She’s no longer a physical threat to me. Now she’s just a voice in my mind that will likely never go away.”

 

Steve’s brows crinkle in confusion. “How do you mean?”

 

You sigh and think back, rubbing your eyes. “Damina was a girl like myself and Tom. She had powers of her own. She had an interesting affinity for working with lightning, and even electricity. When I met her, she was just a few years younger than me, very much an ambitious teen.

 

“People like me typically tend to discover their abilities around puberty. Though that’s not always the case.” You give a slight shrug. “She discovered hers and pushed them to their limit at an early age. Growth is a normal part of the process, but forced growth isn’t safe. She always wanted more, to be better, reach greater distances. She felt stunted, so she sought out unnatural ways of enhancing her abilities.”

 

You pause a moment and lick your lips again, imagine filtering in. “Remember what I told you about the Ordinat? How they chased people like me to steal our powers? Well, they found her and used her for experiments, because she was so eager to stretch her powers.” You shake your head as you close your eyes a moment. “It’s unnatural to change your abilities. It’s unhealthy and incredibly dangerous.”

 

Steve can only imagine what that might be like.

 

“The first time we met, we instantly hated one another,” you continue. “Our powers elementally are natural opposites, so that created a foundation of distrust and dislike. Her experimentation made her a terribly unstable person on top of already being a very erratic teenager.” Then your nose scrunches. “And then it felt like she had no moral compass for the hell of irking me further.” You hear her manic laughter in your mind. Not because she is present, but because of the memories you’re reliving. “We always fought. And then… I killed her.”

 

Steve respectfully waits in the silence for you to continue.

 

“She was a very volatile person,” you say, staring into the distance. You’re vaguely aware of your tremors. “She had set up an ambush, which I sabotaged. Our fights were always time bombs to see who would explode first in one way or another. This time, I _killed_ her.” You wring the anxious memory out in your hands. You’ve never processed this event before. You never told Tom or Layne about it. You’ve just held it in. And now it's out.

 

“But I was too vulnerable and open to her. My abilities were too open, unguarded, and because of her unnatural effects, something went wrong in the death process. Instead of simply dying, I stole a piece of her essence, one that she sent at me in one last lashing. And I took it.”

 

You close your eyes and tuck yourself into Steve’s neck, trying to still your body from reliving the event. “Now she’s a voice in my mind,” you whisper. “She lives in the back of my consciousness. She comes out when lightning storms occur. She exacerbates my anxiety. She runs my thoughts in those moments. She screams at me and reminds me of all that is wrong with me.” Tears spill over again as you clutch Steve’s shirt almost painfully tight.

 

“This time she told me you weren’t coming back,” you admit aloud. It makes you cringe hearing it in your own voice. “That you didn’t want me. That I wasn’t worth it. That you wouldn’t save me.” You suck in a sob.

 

The storm outside has eased back. No more rattling of the building, just hard rain comes down.

 

Steve takes your fist and pries it off his shirt. He intertwines his fingers with yours and keeps your hand close to his chest. He says your name softly. “I promised I would return to you,” he continues gently.

 

This brings a fresh wave of tears to your eyes, and you burrow further into him.

 

Steve lets you rest against him a moment before asking, “What brought on the doubts? Her accusations?”

 

After some thoughtful sniffles, you shake your head. “Not necessarily,” you whisper. It takes several heartbeats before you bring yourself to continue. The hand he holds plays with his fingers. “It was the loneliness,” you tell him. “It suddenly felt so pervasive when you left. You were going to go visit the woman you once loved, and I was left here alone. Tom came to visit. But then she had to leave, too… to her own love. And all I could do was cry out in hopes of discovering that I wasn’t as alone as I felt. I’m sorry!”

 

Steve hushes you gently, wiping your face with his thumb. “Oh, sweet star of mine.” He sets his chin atop your head, warmth creeping around you. Steve’s mind tries to find a way to put your heart at rest, to protect you from such horrid thoughts. “I would’ve gotten here sooner were it not for the storm,” he says softly. “It kept delaying me. But I felt your cry just as I reached the outskirts of the city.”

 

 _He heard me_. His words also make you realize that there was a possibility for him to have met Tom if he’d managed to arrive earlier. But he also wasn’t supposed to get back for at least another day or so. This is an early return. “You’re back early. Why?” you ask, pulling back to look up into Steve’s blue eyes.

 

They watch you kindly. “I missed you,” he tells you with a small lift of his lips.

 

There’s a fluttering in your stomach that takes your breath away. “Really?”

 

Steve nods and proceeds to lay the gentlest of kisses upon your lips.

 

The sweet tenderness of the act springs a warmth in your core that quickly spreads like fire. Your heart quickens, and it feels as though everything inside of you melts. And as you take in the soft, sky-blue eyes, so full of care and more, you are once again left to marvel at who this man is.

 

“Starlight, how afraid were you to see me go?” Steve asks.

 

“Very,” you admit. You may not have known that before. But you sure do now.

 

“Why?”

 

“Because even then I was afraid you wouldn’t come back. Or if you had, you wouldn’t want me anymore for one reason or another. And then I would have to leave… again.” You lower your eyes from his, cheeks warm.

 

“You would keep to your word even if it hurt you?” Steve asks you seriously. “You would leave if I really asked it of you?”

 

What feels like a wave of nausea crashes into the pit of your stomach as you nod.

 

He lifts your chin so you’ll look at him again. His eyes pore over yours. “I’ve not asked you to go, just like I said before my trip. I want you… here, _with_ me.”

 

You close your eyes. His words once more act like a soothing balm on your heart. You hold tightly to what he just said.

 

He speaks your name, reclaiming your gaze. “I visited Peggy, and it went well,” Steve continues. “Seeing her was hard. It brought to life the reality of my situation all over again.” He runs his fingers through his damp hair as he takes his trip in again. “But as I sat with her, she told me of her life, the family she had, and a lot of what she experienced. We mourned what passed. It was easy see what once could’ve been.” He strokes your cheek.

 

“But that’s not what my life is anymore,” he states. “She has lived her life, and she has lived it well. And she wants the same for me.” His gaze moves far away.

 

You watch him quietly, curiously. “Is that what you want?” you ask.

 

Slowly Steve brings himself to nod, his attention returning to the present. “Not quite she envisioned it, though. Right now, I don’t know how to have a home or a family, and I’m not sure that I want to.” He makes a face. “Maybe that’s the wrong way to put it but I know for sure that I don’t know how to have or hold either of those as I am. They seem so normal. And I feel… anything but.” Steve shrugs slightly. “That might change over time but that’s not where I’m at right now.”

 

You nod silently, waiting to hear the verdict.

 

Suddenly Steve’s sky-blue eyes find yours. “But that doesn’t mean that I want you to go. It’s quite the opposite. I want you to stay here with me,” he tells you confidently. His presence steels itself around you, claiming you.

 

“Why?” The stupid question leaves your lips before you can think through asking something better.

 

That’s when Steve takes a hold of your face in both his hands and states, “Because I love you.”

 

Your body goes still in shock.

 

“I’ve fallen in love with you.”

 

 _I can’t believe it_. While not a single twitch leaves your body, your essence oozes from you. It sings and dances and whirls around. It intermingles with Steve’s and receives his affection. A tear slips down your cheek.

 

Steve wipes it away. “Oh, Starlight,” he whispers to you and brings your face close to his. His soft lips press upon yours.

 

You kiss him in return as he pours life into your being. You move and shift to bring yourself ever closer to him. You kiss him fervently as your fingers run through his still damp hair. You let yourself get wrapped up in him, in body and presence. And it’s here in this vulnerable moment that your heart and mind find rest with this incredible man. The bond that’s already built only strengthens and grows, better allowing for your hearts to blend together. And it’s beautiful.

 

Steve eventually pulls away to gain some proper breath, laughter accompanying the motion. “I take it this is your answer?” he asks you.

 

Nodding, you feel your cheeks growing red. You sit back to see him better. “I’m not always great with words. I can communicate better with my emotions or even just actions,” you explain.

 

A lopsided smile appears on his lips. “Oh, I’ve certainly discovered that. But for the sake of my anxious mind, would you put words to it?”

 

You swim in his eyes as wings flutter wildly in your stomach. You can feel the emotions in your chest and the words in your throat. But somehow, they need to come out. To you it feels like it’s revealing a special secret, a hidden treasure. Because this is something you realize you’ve been holding very close to your heart for some time now. And it takes every nerve within you to get you to speak.

 

“I love you, too, Steve,” you tell him softly. Your heart and stomach flutter as your emotions course through. To hear yourself speak the words aloud makes your whole mind and body accept the truth of it all the more. It brings laughter up. “I really do!”

 

His face eases as his body melts at getting the closure he sought out.

 

You caress his smiling face. “You mean the world to me, my love. I don’t know what I’d do without you. And I know it’s only been a short time that I’ve known you, but I do very dearly and greatly love you.”

 

Eyes alight with joy, Steve rests his forehead against yours. “So stay with me,” he pleads gently. “Stumble through technology with me, laugh at my old-fashioned ways, tell me stories of your adventures, train with me, challenge me, _whatever_ it is, just stay with me. Be my friend, be my lover, be the person that I can relate to. Don’t go away. Walk with me.”

 

Tears once more spring from your eyes and stream down your cheeks. Warmth that you’ve come to know as his tenderness and love sweeps you up. “Together,” you add.

 

Steve’s agreement comes through the kisses he places on your cheeks, your nose, and finally your lips.

 

Suddenly the lights in the living room flicker back to life as the power returns to the building, drawing attention from you both.

 

You watch them apprehensively as they refuse to settle. You find yourself holding tightly to Steve’s sleeves.

 

Finally, the flickering stops and the lights stay on. Soft rain falls outside, no longer a threat to the world.

 

“It’s alright, Starlight,” Steve tells you, easing your hands out of their fists. “She can’t reach you. Even if she’s in your mind, she’s not in control.”

 

There’s a part of your mind that wants to fight that. But you realize it’s just her lashing out. You meet his eyes. “Really?”

 

“Was she right in her accusations?”

 

You shake your head. “Steve, you came back. You saved me. And you want me to stay.”

 

He nods. “And as long as I’m around to do anything about it, things will stay that way.”

 

A smile takes your lips. You know he’s stable and secure. He has a heart of gold and a strong, agile mind. He’s more than you could’ve asked for after your loss. “I know I don’t technically need saving,” you explain. “I can hold my own and take care of myself… but it’s nice when I don’t always have to.”

 

“If you let me, I want to be there.” For a moment, Steve’s mind wanders as his eyes glaze over. “You know, I’ve always stood for those who have fallen, being one of those myself most of my life.” His blue eyes focus on your face once more. “Let me stand for you and in the process, help you stand again.” He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’ve given me so much, please let me give back.”

 

You would think by now you would stop with the tears, but more fill your eyes, and slowly they spill out. All you find yourself doing is nodding, gratitude pouring out from you. You hug his neck and let him soothe you in his sweet, genteel way.

 

People can find solace. Havens exist. And it’s amazing how often they can be found with people. Broken people at that.

 

Once your emotions have finished running rampant for one reason or another and the tears on your cheeks have been dried by your love sitting before you, Steve awards you with his dashing lopsided grin. “I brought you back something from my trip,” he tells you. His eyes betray how excited he is even though his disposition is still calm and warm.

 

Some part of your mind comes to a sharp halt. “Wait… what?”

 

Leaving you with a kiss on the forehead, Steve extracts himself from you and heads into the living room where he last left his bags. He digs around to find the little green bag the gift comes in. Steve returns with a bright look in his eye. He perches himself on the edge of the bed and holds out what looks to be a green, velveteen bag, only about the size of his palm.

 

“What is it?” you ask.

 

“Why don’t you open it and see?” he probes amused.

 

You take the little bag carefully and pull on the drawstrings. You slip your hand inside and grab hold of some kind of cord then pull it out. You’re surprised to find a strange weight attached to it. Holding it up, it’s revealed to be a necklace with a dangling, golden pendant. You stare at in wonder, speechless. Setting the bag down, you bring the pendant closer for inspection.

 

It’s the head of a fox, carved in intricate, interwoven lines. There is a colored jewel embedded for the eye that faces out which gives the fox a mischievous gleam to it. The pendant dangles from a black, braided, leather cord connected by a silver clasp.

 

“Oh, Steve, it’s beautiful!” you say in wonder. You look back up at him. “But, why?”

 

Steve takes the necklace from your hands and undoes the clasp. With your assistance, he places it around your neck. He watches as you familiarize yourself with the new weight on your neck and the feel of its intricate design.

 

“There are mixed reasons,” he starts. “For starters, I wanted to get you something, and I found something that represents us both. The fox, for the curious vixen that you are.” A smirk crosses his features. “You weren’t kidding about trouble. It either finds you or you sniff it out. And now I’m signed up to take it on.”

 

This makes you laugh. He couldn’t have described your life and his doom more perfectly!

 

“The way it’s carved, those are Celtic knot designs, which is part of my heritage. My mother had some authentic Irish pieces of work that showed the different knot workmanship. She would’ve wanted you to have something of ours like that.”

 

The sweet thoughts fill you with warmth. Your fingers play with the fox, an old fiddling habit of yours, yet a soothing one. “Thank you, love,” you say.

 

Steve leans in and kisses your lips. “I love you, Starlight.”

 

“I love you, too, Steve.”

 

~*~

 

After that night, life soon settles out into the familiar routine you’ve both have come to establish. You treasure the little apartment that quickly becomes your cozy home. And together you take on the crazy, modern-day life.

 

Moving forward, you and Steve spend a great deal of time researching history. Steve tries to fill in the gaps of his knowledge, and in the meantime, he teaches you what he knows. You are just trying to learn it all. History becomes a topic you both can come together and bond over since you are both at odds with it due to your own histories.

 

You grow to love the city of New York more and more as the days pass. You love getting to know it’s occupants better. And you do for the city what you can. At the same time, you openly complain to Steve about its busyness, noisiness, and great lack of greenery. Steve simply laughs at you, understanding that you miss your forest glade. In his kind fashion, he finds ways to take you to nature or bring it to you.

 

Carla comes around quite often. She seems to be perfectly content with feeding you both. She’s taken it upon herself to change your sense of fashion, though. At first you were apprehensive, knowing how you two have two very different outlooks on clothes. But soon you discover that she’s grown to know you well enough to cater the outfits to your style. Then the clothes started appearing, and they don’t seem to be from local stores. It’s made you wonder if Carla’s a seamstress. It all fits you incredibly well! And you can’t help but be grateful. It’s nice to have a female friend nearby, even if it’s one that bosses you around.

 

Fury sends you out on missions that take you to different countries and regions of the world. You’re starting to better discover the planet Earth. Every time you leave, you’re sure to return with some special token for Steve. And you do the same with Tom. When you find a unique trinket, you send it on to her. She tells you all about her wedding planning adventures, which mainly consist of her telling you what everyone else is doing and why.

 

You each settle into your new lives and happily share what’s going on with the other. But it is your life on Earth that truly becomes your focus. Where you were so restless, constantly running and doing and avoiding, for so long, you’re finally resting in a safe place with someone who shares your heart. You and Steve help one another grieve lives that have passed and learn how to live in the now and the new. There’s always something more to learn, something new to absorb.

 

But you do it together. Naturally, there are hard days that still come around. But you face them together. You take on his trauma, and he takes on your worries. And as the days pass, you and the incredible man known as Captain Steve Rogers learn to walk together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, we made it! I somehow successfully finished my first fanfiction! This chapter is the technical end to this piece, but there will be one more chapter posted that is the epilogue. It's a fun add-on scene that I really want everyone to have. ^_^
> 
> Please let me know what you thought about the story! If there's something you really liked, I'd love to hear about it. If you have ideas you'd like to see later on, feel free to propose them. I'm all for suggestions! If you'd even like to me to create individual scene outside of this, I'd love to try it out. Challenges my writing, which I think is a great thing to do. So let me know!
> 
> And, yes, there will be second piece to follow that should take place in the Avengers portion of the timeline (which I've thoroughly skewed by now, lol). I'll be working on that and hopefully posting that in the general future. Grad school homework is kicking my ass so writing is a slow process right now. But if everything works out well, the story should continue!
> 
> Again, thank you to everyone who has kept up with this endeavor! Thank you for all the kudos and comments. They've been a true gift to receive. See you soon with the epilogue! <3


	26. A New Start - An Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, folks!
> 
> A birthday piece to celebrate my birthday with today! ^_^

 

You finally answer the incessantly buzzing phone. “Hello?”

 

Steve all but yells your name in exasperation, making you giggle quietly. “ _Where the **hell** are you?_ ” he proceeds. “ _What are you doing? What is going on? What goose chase have you sent me on?_ ”

 

This time you giggle aloud. “Are you at the pier?” you ask instead of answering any of his questions.

 

“ _Yes, and it looks like nearly everyone from the dance scene is here_.”

 

“Good! Carla should find you soon.”

 

“ _What? Why? Starlight, what are you doing? Why am I wearing this? And where have you been all day?_ ”

 

“I promise to answer everything very soon, love,” you console. “Just trust me. I promise this craziness will all be worth it.”

 

Steve sighs through the phone. You feel him ease. “ _Alright_ ,” he concedes.

 

“Thank you, love. I’ll be seeing you soon. Enjoy the show!” You end the call and send a text to Carla informing her of Steve’s arrival. She knows what to do from there. You stow away your phone in your bag. You come out of your hiding place to signal the various stations.

 

In that moment, on July 4, 2011, the Independence Day celebrations begin. All along the river, different sites set off their firework displays. Cheers rise from the edges of the river from where most of the city watches. The sun sets prettily in the distance.

 

Smiling, you make your way to the bridge and scale it to the top. You sit upon its peak and watch the spectacle from your precarious perch.

 

After three months of being with Steve, you’re ecstatic that this day has finally arrived. It’s the Fourth of July; not only is it America’s birthday but also Steve’s! His first to be celebrated out of the ice in sixty-six years. And you want it to be special. So for the past month, you’ve been working very closely with Carla to bend many, _many_ rules to set tonight’s events up. And now they’re about to come to fruition. And you’re so excited!

 

Your eyes keep track of the setting sun. It’s nearly completely hidden behind the skyline. You check on Steve’s link within you. Instantly you feel his quiet enjoyment of the celebrations going on around him. You’re not sure if he’s partaking in the dancing, but you hope that he does in the time that you’re busy.

 

You and Steve have grown fond of the swing dancers and the dance scene, having become active participants in the past months. You decided to include them in your plans as well, and they were more than delighted to join the crazy train your conducting. You also decided to let Fury know what you intended to do. He smartly didn’t say anything to stop you but you know that either he or some of his special agents are around, watching. So long as things go as planned, there should be no reason for them to interfere.

 

Your eyes note the sun again. It’s almost time for the surprise.

 

A sudden tug at the shadows behind you brings a grin to your face. “You made it!” you declare before glancing back.

 

The darkness closes just as Loki steps out from the dark gate. Just in front of him, Tom smirks down at you. “Of course, we made it,” she retorts. “Wouldn’t want to miss the light show.”

 

You giggle happily as you stand to give your friend a hug. You’re amused that she still wears her leathers. At least now they seem a little more suited to her and her style, which makes you smile.

 

Tom gives you a once over when you pull back. “You look cute,” she says with a smile. “I like the bow.”

 

“Thanks! Representing tonight’s colors.” You check on the red bow in your hair and make sure its secure. It matches your red flats. They make a bright contrast to your navy-blue dress covered in white polka dots. Carla designed it look like a more modern 1950s dress with an off-the-shoulder neckline. And of course, it fits incredibly and has great twirl to it.

 

Loki’s eyes take in the city and its fireworks. He’s not dressed in his full regalia but simply in his everyday green and gold pants and tunic. His dark hair is tied back, and he stands with his hands clasped behind his back. Granted, it all still makes him look like the prince he is, especially here. “This is nothing compared to Asgard,” he comments quietly.

 

“Yes, well, this isn’t Asgard,” you throw back at him. “So, lower your expectations and enjoy what you get, O’ High and Mighty One.”

 

His green eyes flick to yours, a lazy smile upon his lips. “I never lower my expectations, Healer.”

 

You roll your eyes and hear Tom give a sigh, who also rolls her eyes. Chuckling, you look over the city’s horizon.

 

The sun has set. The firework shows are slowly coming to a stop. It’s time.

 

You rub your hands against your hips to wear out your nerves. “Well,” you say as nerves slowly creep into your stomach, “guess it’s my turn now.”

 

“You sure you have the energy for this?” Tom asks.

 

“I’ll be fine,” you tell her with a smile.

 

“That didn’t answer my question.”

 

You grin. “I know. See you in a bit!” Backing up to the edge, you launch yourself backwards into the night air.

 

A single trail of light follows you so that onlookers can keep up with your movements. For one long second, you are suspended in midair, weightless and free. And then you begin your fall towards the river. That horrid feeling torments your stomach. Falling is one of the few fears you face because of the thrill it gives. You must convince yourself that it’s worth it every time.

 

Off in the distance, there is a collective gasp.

 

Laughing, you flip yourself upright and draw the water to your feet to cushion your landing upon it. Rippling waves emanate from where you stand on the river water, a glow at your feet.

 

Cheers rise from the crowds watching all along the riverbanks.

 

There’s a tug at your stomach. You assure Steve that it’s you and that you’re perfectly fine. And you finally explain that this is for him. You love the surprise that fills him.

 

You summon your light to your hands and begin to form a large orb, coloring it blue. You leave it suspended in the air and skate over a distance. You create a second orb, a white one. You skate over one more time and create a third. This one is red. You summon your golden staff.

 

This time instead of skating over, you press on the water and shoot yourself back to the blue orb. You touch it with your staff and send the blue light into the air.

 

It writes: **VETERANS**.

 

You grab some of the white and send that swirl up.

 

 **THANK YOU FOR YOUR** …

 

You skip over to the red and add it to the script.

 

 **SERVICE**.

 

Right on cue, all stations of fireworks go off. It sends the crowds crazy with cheers and applause.

 

You spent a lot of time memorizing the major wars that America has been in. You start listing them off, starting with the most recent, trading out colors. With each presentation, a station of fireworks goes off in its commemoration. You let them specialize that however they liked, so long as it was fair to all.

 

You found ways to invite as many veterans to this event as possible, asking them to wear their uniforms or their colors or whatever it is that reminds them of that time.

 

This is the day that America celebrates its freedom. Whether it be from their revolution to their daily fronts, all battles should be remembered. This is a young country that can still stand for what they believe despite troubles that plague it. It’s a distinct difference between this world and your own: this one holds to a hope for its future for its inhabitants. One you’re willing to fight for.

 

When you reach World War II, you deviate from the regular procession. You take of the blue light and write out Steve’s name in it, sending it up to fill the air above you. Grabbing some red, you add “Captain” above it, and then finish off by putting his last name in white.

 

You’re not expecting the roar that rises from the crowd. It makes you laugh as you take your staff and personally write out your next message in your golden light.

 

**Happy Birthday!**

 

The cheering is incredible! And it only ends so that everyone around Steve can start singing to him what you assume to be a birthday song.

 

It makes your heart happy. As they come to a finish, you erase Steve’s name and your message. You replace it with a new personalized message in gold.

 

 **Thank you**.

 

In colors red and blue, you throw up his alias that this city so dearly loves: _Captain America_. Taking of all three colors, you create the iconic shield.

 

A special array of red, white, and blue explosions hit the sky.

 

The crowd cheers with the fireworks.

 

It makes your heart soar. And you feel a similar excitement coursing through Steve. It makes the whole ordeal worth it.

 

You clear the air once more and continue up the list of wars. Fireworks play their part with the procession until the Revolutionary War is reached. You let them fill the sky is grand celebration as you take all three colors and run the distance between the two bridges on the river. In your wake, you leave the American flag waving, bringing your show to a close.

 

Fireworks complete their finales at each of the various stations, leaving both Steve and America greatly and specially celebrated.

 

Hidden in the darkness of the night, you dash back to the bridge where your friends await. You shoot yourself up from the water and take a hefty leap up the side of the architecture. Only when it’s too late do you realize you’re not going to make it.

 

A hand catches your wrist. A pair of emerald eyes smirk down at you. “What of your sense of aim, Healer?” Loki teases.

 

You laugh as he hefts you up onto the platform.

 

“That was awesome, friend!” Tom says with a smile, clapping her hands.

 

Loki simply holds to a quiet smile.

 

“Thanks,” you reply breathlessly. The fact that you just used up your energy reserves is catching up to you. But it’s left you with a deep sense of happiness. “Are you heading out now?”

 

Your friend nods. “Don’t want to be in the way of letting you celebrate the rest of the night away.”

 

Chuckling, you hug Tom tightly. “Thank you again for coming, dear friend. Even if your bastard prince came along,” you tease.

 

Loki makes a sound in his throat that only makes your friend laugh all the more.

 

“Anytime, girl.” Tom pulls away, and a dark passage opens. “See you around!”

 

You give her a last wave.

 

“Good evening, Healer,” Loki says in farewell.

 

“See ya, Your Highness!”

 

They disappear.

 

Their absence is immediately felt. You breathe in deeply before turning your eyes on where you know Steve to be. Gathering your last bits of energy, you take a few leaps across the bridge and over onto land. A clan of swing dancers greet you eagerly, congratulating you on your works. Blushing and laughing awkwardly, you accept their praise and extricate yourself slowly from them. There’s someone you need to get to, which they quickly catch onto and let you go. You weave through the crowd to find the one you’re looking for.

 

Then there he is!

 

The broad-shouldered man with his groomed, blond hair standing there in his 1940s, dark-brown uniform. With hands in his pockets, he talks with a fellow veteran of a more recent generation. They converse easily. He stands tall and proud with only his head cocked in order to listen better. He wears his authority quietly the way he very comfortably fills in his uniform. This dashing captain could not capture your eye more even if he tried.

 

Though that is _immediately_ disproven the moment Steve turns his sky-blue eyes on you. His charming, lopsided smile appears.

 

And it just undoes you. Heats floods you from the top of your head to the tip of your toes while a giddy smile plays at your lips. Your heart flutters about inside you.

 

With a cordial nod to his comrade, Steve breaks from the conversation and starts making his way over to you. He calls your name.

 

Your feet move before your mind processes the action. You’ve not seen him all day due to preparations. You run and jump straight in his arms. “Steve!”

 

“There you are!” Steve catches you and gives you a spin, making you laugh gleefully, before setting you back on your feet.

 

You kiss him, holding him close. You wrap him up in your love and adoration and celebration.

 

A wave of cheers and whooping erupt from the surrounding dancers.

 

You break the kiss from laughter and self-consciousness, but Steve keeps his hold on you, completely ignoring everyone else. It helps you focus on him. “Happy birthday, my love,” you tell him, setting a hand on his cheek. “I hope you get to see many, many more!”

 

“I look forward to seeing them with you,” Steve replies with a smile. He rests his forehead on yours. “Thank you.” He pulls back to gaze into your eyes. “My shooting star.”

 

Warmth fills your core, and laughter bubbles up.

 

Music weaves its way through the air as the Swing community returns to their end of the festivities. The night is still young, and there is plenty of celebration to go around.

 

Steve takes your hand and your waist and begins leading, dashing smile in place.

 

Connected by the invisible string within, together you read each other easily. It would allow for you both to be in incredible sync and precision. But Swing isn’t a dance of elegance and delicacy, it’s about being creative, expressive, and upbeat. So forget formality, with every Swing Out there’s an extra twist or twirl, and with every jump there is a quirk or flare to add.

 

“Woo!” you exclaim with an outstretched hand.

 

Steve chuckles watching you enjoy yourself. He swings you, he guides you, he leads you, and he loves it. He gets to watch your carefree spirit be alive and active. He gets to watch you do crazy things whenever they appear in your mind. He gets to panic every time you go off to do something, insane or no. But what he loves most is always having you return to him. He knows there wherever you run off to, you’ll always come back.

 

And this is exactly how Steve wants it to be.

 

Today is Steve Rogers’ birthday. It’s the beginning of a new start. And it’s with you at his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeeeeeeeeeeeeh!! I can't believe I made it through this whole thing! Ah!
> 
> I really hope y'all liked it!
> 
> The second piece is in the works. Be patient with me, I have like no time! xD
> 
> Thank you for all your lovely comments and so many wonderful kudos! Catch me on Tumblr if you'd like! ;)
> 
> If you like my story enough, care to buy me some coffee? :D [Support Me on Ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/F2F5FP5C)
> 
> Keep reading, keep writing, keep sharing!
> 
> With all my love,
> 
> ~Star


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